Twenty-Six Years Later
by HopefulEVOLution
Summary: Through the seven years of Hogwarts, they faced the hardships, the betrayals, the heartaches, and the fears together to end the war. They were victorious and at peace for nineteen years after that. But there has been an unspoken war among the trio that has been going on longer and now the battle has taken a turning point that may change lives (Epilogue compliant fic; Harmione)
1. Preface: Hollow Streets

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to JK Rowling. No copyright.

 **A:N:** This story takes place after Deathly Hallows Epilogue. A little warning is that at some point of the story, the rating could possibly change to rated M but it isn't certain.

Aside from that, enjoy reading!

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 _I see you on the blue skies_

 _I need a little sunshine_

 _I fill into your brown eyes_

 _Told you I was your light_

 _No, I don't wanna talk about it_

 _I don't wanna listen all that much_

 _Is it falling apart?_

 _I don't wanna talk about it_

 _I just wanna hold your hand_

Your Soul; Rhodes

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 **Preface: Hollow Streets**

The lenses of his glasses were fogged up, his vision a smudged blur but he did not bother to wipe them clean them. He can see through the grogginess of his eyes a few puffs of air appearing in front of him in faint gray mist before it dissolved into transparent air – it took him a moment to realize those were his breaths. He couldn't tell because his lips were numb, the color of the flesh a faded pink with a few chapped crisps formed by the corners. The air was cold, ridiculously frigid and he couldn't find a sane reason to explain the unfathomable weather. It should not be below in degrees at this time of the year unless the season to seek warmth was around the corner but it wasn't even there either. Perhaps it was his presence that made the area become so brisk, a living reminder of what had bitterly taken place on the grounds he walked on.

His legs trembled to the bone as he stepped, his toes curling within his boots, the hair of his legs standing tall against the fabric of his trousers, and goose bumps rising up on his shivering skin. His hands were unmoving, his fingers stupefied by the icy breezes despite being buried deeply in the pockets of his scrunch brown trench coat. The weather wasn't freezing; it was a chilling atmosphere but it was not enough to make one want to stay in the cozy warmth of their home and snuggle in a heavy blanket while drinking a mug of homemade hot chocolate, basking in the heat of the blazing fireplace. Yet, it made him shudder with every inhale and exhale, his lung shriveling by the coolness of his breaths. He should be suffocating by the lack of summer's glow.

The path was narrow, darkened by the sleeping sky but kept illuminated by the light posts shining brightly in front of the quiet cottages he trudged past, some of the windows lit up while other seem vacant. The street was somewhat empty; some residents walked by him, not bothering to stare at him or never noticing him bump into their shoulder whilst they were engrossed on keeping themselves shielded away from the cold. There were also other buildings that passed his line of vision where he can see were currently being locked up for the night; the post office was turned off into a box of black, the retail shops were chained tightly, and the local pub was shut down. He instantly assumed that perhaps those who had strolled along were the employees.

He mottled a sign named _Church Lane_ and his feet were possessed to continue their journey down the new street. He wasn't truly focused on where he was taking himself to – his mind was no longer with him during this unexplainable trip. His body, his vision, and his senses were physically there but his mentality was gone while he marched through the direction guided by the streetlights, feeling exposed to the lingering eyes he is suspecting to be watching him through the closed windows. He did not need to look down to know he is wearing clothes; he just couldn't help sensing he was bare to his watchers.

Then he halted into a stop once he reached the center of the place and saw a little church towering him, its stained-glass windows giving a faint glow through his misty glasses. There was a sign carved into the stoned roof just above the front doors. _Parish Church of St._ Clementine. He preceded forward, his fingers reviving as they curled into somewhat tight fists inside his pockets, and his eyes settled forward ahead of him while he moved. He paid no attention to the small board that held the hours of Eucharist. He rounded the corner of the building and was presented with a sight of row of dusted tombstones, lightened with faint colors of faded blue mixed golden red and light green by the gentle reflections of the stained-glass of the church. He ventured on, never stealing a glance to the slightly crumbled stones but from the corner of his eyes, he can easily read the names he ignored.

 _Abbott. Ariana Dumbledore. Kendra Dumbledore. Ignotus Peverall. Elsbeth McCormick. Dinah Stevenson. John Stevenson. Edwin Booth. Julie Parkes. Peter G._

So many people who lived to the fullest. So many lives that were taken away cruelly. He can only imagine how much their loved ones have suffered in the period of their passing.

Soon, his feet paused once they reached their destination. In front of him was another tombstone except it was not like the many others that were insignificant to him. This one held value, it held meaning, and it was very meaningful to his life. It left a sour taste in his mouth and left a live spark in his heart. It was a cantaloupe piece forever marked on the earth even after his death comes to meet him finally.

A small broken smile cracked through his stoned face as his eyes roamed over the two names that have the ability to stab him with no mercy and to smother him with a distant love altogether.

James Potter Lily Potter

27 March, 1960 31 October, 1981

30 January, 1960 31 October, 1981

 _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_

A dull sensation ached inside his chest as he read these names and dates with a tender yet broken smile, his eyes seem to appear greener by the glistening sight of a tearful wall forming by his eyelids. The shine of the dominating moon above can be seen reflecting off the emeralds of his eyes, the light of the sky bright enough to have the outline of his silhouette stretch across the grassy fields of the graveyard and to flash the carves of the tombstone he is staring at. He should not be smiling either way because this was evidence that he may have people in his life who love him, cherish him, worship him, idolize him, and some may feel hatred towards him but they will never come close to the filling in the idle hole of true love of a family. There was nothing greater than a parent's love for their child. He knew he was saved by theirs and he will forever be grateful of their sacrifice to have him where he is now still it cannot stop him from wishing they were here with him.

He was just glad that their deaths were not in vain. He made sure of that nineteen years ago.

" _Orchideous_ …" a voice whispered behind him. It was not too far away. In fact it was incredibly close by. It was soothing, gentle. The sound to his ears felt like the fluttering flakes of snow falling on the calm of his hand in Christmas morning. The voice held comfort, understanding, and concern when he incarnated the same spell that had been used years ago for this particular tombstone, the amount of respect he felt for such a sweet gesture increasing yet again as he watched it come to life before him. Slowly, a wreath appeared at the base of the tombstone with various autumn flowers such as mesmerizing purple tibouchinas, breathtaking peach David Auntin Roses, and purely white gordonias flowers embedded into the roots. It was marvelous, the well-decorated wreath brought life to the tombstone and he felt as if his parents were alive with him.

Twigs were crunched and pebbles clashed as a set of feet lightly stomped towards him, calmly approaching him like a mother would their child when they are in quivering in fear. The footsteps stopped beside him, the heat of the new presence radiating into him, warming up the frozen particles of his stiff body, and he nearly jumped when he felt delicate fingers slide into the crook of his elbow, lightly gripping on the fabric of his trench coat there. Another hand rested on his forehead, the thumb softly caressing it through the sleeve, and then a weight of a head was settled on his broad shoulder, small strands of hair tickling the pulsing side of his throat. It was an odd comfort.

"Thank you," he managed to force out in a whisper, his voice thick and rough. His eyes never left the wreath.

The head nodded. "Your welcome."

He closed his eyes as he listened to that voice again. It was so soft, so caring. He felt at peace to know that for the past twenty-six years of his life, he was able to have the privilege to hear such a tremendous voice by his side for various occasions. It had pulled him through the darkest of time by the wisdom of words it produced, motivating him to become stronger, encouraging him to take risks he knew he could take and come back alive, expressing their belief in him when things seemed impossible, voicing their concern over his health, teasing him about his mistakes, and always being firm with him to be kept in place whenever he was out of line. It was always this voice that has him alive to this day.

He tilted his head to the side to rest against the other and sighed, his muscles becoming limp in relaxation under the touches of the hand on his forearm, the caresses unwinding the tendons of his arm. He was certain he would have become a puddle if he loosened up any more. He breathed in deeply, taking in the aroma of honey mixed with cinnamon that came from the hair, the scent enticing his brain into a foggy cloud of nothing, and he turned his head to bury his nose into the tresses to become an addict to the essence. He had smelled it before many times but he never concentrated hard at how his nose tingled in delight like it did now. It never did that before or maybe it did and he never realized it until now.

They stood there in silence for the respect of the dead buried below around them, for the respect of his late parents. The only noise heard is their shuddering breathing and the soft beats of their hearts in their ears. He never heard that voice speak again and he knew nothing need to be said to know what he wanted to hear – _I'm here_. He never wanted to hear the usual _everything is going to be okay_ when this specific day is far from it or the commonly known _they're still here with you_ when they truly aren't. They have moved on as soon as they saw him living, as soon as they saw him come back home alive. They were gone.

In spite of that, this _she_ did not talk again. The relief of his arm being held gingerly, the feeling of a head lying on his shoulder, and the thudding of a heartbeat against his upper arm is what he needed. It was like this the first time he returned to his home; this woman with him was the same person who accompanied him here. He would always want this her to be the one to come here with him on this dreadful date because he had shown an overly vulnerable side of him that he hid from others whenever it came to his parents – all the pain, the anger, the hurt, and the rage he kept inside was released that day in tears to her. She saw a broken orphan who despises the cruelty of the world for taking away what he never knew he had and was desperate to be in the arms of those who left to the other side, who were forced to leave him behind. He just wants her to see him that one because he trusted her with his soul.

"Happy Halloween, Hermione," he whispered softly, his tone pungent and sour.

The brunette witch shifted her head to press a friendly kiss on his clothed shoulder and then tilted upward to plant another on his cheek, the roughness of his growing facial hair brushing against the gentleness of his light pink lips. She slid her hand from his elbow down on his arm until she reached his hand, her slim fingers slipping through the gaps between his and hooked on his knuckles in a firm grasp as she moved to hide her face in the crook of his neck. She can feel his hand loosely hold hers, the skin smooth in cold yet balmy by touch.

"Happy Halloween, Harry," she murmured, her voice strong in word but weak in sound. She never enjoyed this day not because he would be so sullen by the death of his parents but due to her always wondering how their lives would be like if they were awake. It would be an epic change in history. They probably wouldn't be who they are now or probably wouldn't have even met on the train twenty-six years ago. She just knew for a fact that Harry would have been happy on this day with the memories of trick-or-treating with his father and carving face on pumpkins with his mother.

It did not bother her to accompany him here on his holiday, on the anniversary of their death; she mostly felt touched that he would rather have her to be the only one to witness him mourn over them. She can see that he held such trust in her and he can see that she has the same amount of respect for her no matter what state he is in. He was always a little boy, an orphan who was terrified by the heavy responsibility upon his shoulders beneath the heroic image that the world had conjured him up to be and this day nineteen years ago he had shown her. She can see why he wanted her to be the one here with him.

With a shaky inhale, Hermione closed her eyes as she tightened her grip on Harry's hand and began to silently pray to the deceased James and Lily Potter.

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 **Please review!**


	2. Sweets and Treats

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters and the locations used in it or the music mentioned. But I do own this plot.

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 **Thank You:**

 **apAidan -** For being the first to review my story. It really motivated me to finish the next chapter as quickly as I could.

 **dennisud -** For your words. I enjoyed to see how engrossed you were by my writing. I truly appreciate it. Have fun with the rest of the story.

 **happylady -** For taking the time to look into my story. I hope you enjoy this new chapter and that it reached your expectations.

 **Fibinaci -** For the advice but I have plans on continuing this as a story.

 **123irish -** For your kind encouragement. I'm glad to see you take a liking to the prologue. Can't wait to see what you think of this new chapter.

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 _We have fallen down again tonight_

 _In this world it's hard to get it right_

 _Trying to make your heart fit like a glove_

 _What it needs is love, love, love_

 _Everybody, everybody wants to love_

 _Everybody, everybody wants to be loved_

 _Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh_

 _Everybody; Ingrid Michealson_

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 **Chapter One: Sweets and Treats**

It has been at least less than five minutes and he is already beginning to feel lonesome. He never moved an inch from an five minutes and he is already beginning to feel lonesome. his spot as he processed what is transpiring around him; the high-pitch whistles faded away into a distant ringing echoing in his ears, the smell of burning coal was just another odor to disappear in the air, the sound of metal gears screeching against each other was silenced, and the commotion of endless farewells have quieted down into wishful whispers from the fathers and cheerless sobs from the mothers. He know that he should be showing some signs of how glum he actually felt but in reality, aside from the despondent feelings, he mostly sensed pride and gratitude when he saw his only two sons climb aboard on the same red steam engine he once rode on for six years.

The first time he let go of his eldest son, James Sirius Potter, on the Hogwarts Express, he was unexpectedly discouraged to be waking up in the mornings and not hearing his voice being sung along with his other two children. He was constantly worried of what James would be involved in, what troubles he would be facing, what roadblocks will he have with his lessons, who he was acquainted with, and what he career has he settled on studying for. He had admitted to himself last year that he was awfully surprised to learn from one of James' early letter that he had almost been sorted into the Ravenclaw House – he honestly expected him to be immediately in Gryffindor for his daring attitude on impossible stunts or to be in Slytherin by his cunningness. But later on, Harry was pleased to know his first born was almost stuck in the house where intelligence was taken seriously so he knew that James was secretly becoming studious.

However, this time, Harry felt as if he was losing parts of him as he watched the train disappear through the tunnel. This is the second time in his life when he had to just stand back and watch another child of his own walk away to grow up into adulthood without him, becoming a man by his own, and he could not be there to witness the greatest moments of triumphs, to be there to say that he had saw the key points of his child's life that matured him even more. Although, he doubt he would really be missing anything out in his children's life because he knows they would sent him letter daily of their achievements, their experiences, and their discoveries about themselves or their professors would notify him about of their days – he just wanted to be there in person to congratulate them of their success and voice out his pride in them.

Unfortunately, he would have to be patient until their return to do that.

 _Best of luck to you two_ , he thought hopefully.

With a woeful sigh, Harry glanced down to his left to see the deep red locks of his youngest daughter – his only child left – Lily Luna Potter. She was clutching onto her wife's side with her face hidden in the breast pocket of Ginny Potter's leather coat, letting her silent tears to soak onto the material as she muffled her croaked cried by biting onto her trembling lip. He can only imagine how worst it must feel for the young redhead. Her two oldest siblings have moved on ahead with their lives to become powerful wizards while she stayed behind with her magic to be kept unused, dreading to be waking up the upcoming day without the boyish feel in their home, without the loud ruckus of their activities, or without the continuous energy of limitless games.

Albus and James are her two first best friends before she started going to St. Paul's Cathedral School, a muggle independent school in the city of London and made several friends there. Although, she would go spend the day with her mates from her classes, she would return home early to be able to spend the remains of the afternoon with her two brothers, always stating that they were interesting in contrast to her muggle friends. She always preferred to learn more about being a magical being with her brothers; she would always want to learn how to fly a broom, how to pronounce a spell, or to try to develop a new charm. Harry would always be in the sidelines watching them. They did it all together from the moment of their first magical accident until now, and it upsets him to see Lily alone so abruptly.

Harry reached down to take Lily's small, fragile hand in his large, calloused ones and then formed an encouraging smile when she snapped her head up to him, her naturally freckled face blotched with a few streaks of drying tears, her bright brown eyes glistening with unshed waters, her nose a dotted pink, and her cheeks a ruby rose shade. She was clearly struggling to not let out a sob with how her jaw looked clenched and her lips were pressed together to prevent from quivering more.

"Hey," Harry started as he lowered himself into a knee, his hand never releasing hers, and brought his free hand up to her face to rub his thumb over the moist skin of her cheeks, wiping away the unwanted tears of his daughter's face. "Cheer up now, sweetie. It won't be long till we see them again and soon enough you'll be joining them."

Lily did not smile; she pouted sadly, her eyes downcast. "But I'm all alone," she murmured while lowering her head dejectedly, a few strands of her ginger hair fluttering forward to her face.

Harry frown, a small cease forming on his forehead as he knitted his eyebrows together. He downed his hand to her chin and tilted her head back up with his fingertips, bringing her sullen gaze back to him, and shook his head.

"You're not alone," he retorted comfortingly. "You have your mum and me with you. We will never leave you alone."

Lily pursed her lips, her face doubtful but her eyes hopeful. "Promise?"

"Promise." Harry held out his pinkie finger for her to wrap her own around and then pressed a quick kiss to his knuckle, his gaze on his daughter's face never wavering.

Lily smiled and nodded.

Harry groaned a bit as he straightened himself, swiping a hand over his trousers to dusted away the small dirt he had gotten on himself. Then he glanced around to see the crowd of families slowly decreasing in numbers, the flow of the traffic slowly heading downwards to the exit out of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Some of them were chatting among themselves about their happiness towards their children, never halting whenever thumping with another on the way as they continued to prattle along with their colleague, while others were a bit close-minded, their vacant expressions revealing that their minds were settled on their descended child. Harry assumed it must be their first born – they instantly reminded him of his first time with James.

From a few mere feet from him, he can see stood the familiar outlines of two adults. One was a very tall and lanky male, his fiery red hair combed to the side neatly where it revealed the freckled complexion on his light face. From the short distance, one can see he held a rather long nose and two crystal blue eyes that seem to shimmer with an old mischief that never seemed to die through age of maturity yet was captivating as the dark blue corners of the horizon of an ocean. He was wearing a brown stripped button-down shirt beneath a matching coat, the hem tucked under the black leather belt looped around his maroon slacks, and the black shoes were polished neatly to see the dim lights above to reflect on. His appearance gave a professional aspect, a quality of a businessman who knew how to win deals over top-notch companies and to make accurate sales to customers but the teasing grin showed his side as a heart-warming father and family man.

Beside him was a woman who was a foot shorter than him. She was a brunette, her hair pulled back in a slightly loose knot behind her head with a few tendril freed on the side of her face. Her eyes were two pools of melted brown chocolate with glints of youth brightened within her pupils and held a sense of sophistication. Her nose was petite and her mouth was full by luscious flesh. She was wearing a floral-pattern blouse hidden under a white trench coat tied around her slim waist and a pair of somewhat faded skinny jeans that embraced her well to show the curve of her womanly figure. Her feet were protected by set of low heels, showing her light pink toenails. Her display was the definition of a headstrong member of the law enforcement whom time is constantly consumed by hourly working in the office but has a perfectly balanced schedule to return home sometime later after nightfall and the kind smile painted on her tranquil face exposed her motherly persona.

Between them was a child presumably around the same age as his daughter. He had the same colored hair as his father but the skin of his mother. He was wearing a long-sleeved denim jacket with matching jeans and a pair of black All-Star converse. His back was facing towards Harry but from how his mother delicately stroke his hair, he assumed that he was experiencing the same as Lily; he was somber to see an older sibling move along without him and now he must face days without his other half.

It had taken Harry a moment to realize he was staring at his two long-term best friends and their only son.

Ronald, Hermione, and Hugo Weasley.

The thrashing of people made it difficult for him to identify them.

Through the thin gaps that came in his line of vision, he watched the facial expression of his best friends slowly transition from comforting to upsetting in a matter of seconds. He craned his neck a bit to the side to gain a better angle of view of the scene unfolding not too far from him, seeing Hermione crouch down in front of Hugo with a deep frown whilst she spoke to him, probably attempting to cheer up the lonesome fellow with her excellent vocabulary of motivation, and Ron was giving the young child a few pats on the head with a slight smile, occasionally nodded as if agreeing with Hermione's words. The air around them seem to gradually change a few minutes later once Hugo flung forward to tie his arms around his mother's neck, eliciting a cheerful laugh from her as she wrapped her own around him and lifted him in her arms, planting a series of quick kisses on her son's redden cheek.

Harry smiled at this; he is always amazed to see how far his best friends have made it through the years after their relationship began and how well they seem to be as responsible parents. He can still remember the day when they announced the pregnancy of their first-born and only daughter, Rose Weasley. They were afraid yet in anticipation to raise their own into a respectable young lady. They were still young when they had Rose, recently becoming newlyweds and both twenty-five years old when the discovery of a new addition in their life was concluded. They haven't even been married for a month when the symptoms had started to occur to Hermione. It had worried Harry that such a difficult responsibility of a parent would be too stressful for them to handle whether one was reckless to take risk or the other was level-headed unless they blended together it would have been a painful obstacle to pass through.

Harry knew the struggles of a parent at a young age. A year before Rose came to the world, he and Ginny had gone through the troublesome development of their relationship after three months they were officially married. He was only twenty-four, an age where he was supposed to travel to the ends of the earth with his first wife and explore what it had to offer them, and she was twenty-three, still a child to the eyes of the elders, still full of wonderment of life and curiosity to attempt the new. But instead, they were brought into parenthood after the faithful night of their honeymoon.

After the birth of James, they had hit a strain in their relationship. Their playful arguments had become into raging quarrels, their mocking silent treatments had turned into quiet anger, their times together were separated by a baby's wail, and their plans for traveling was unattainable due to spending hours to work away from home to come back with bags of groceries for their child. Their time of youth and freedom was ended by taking a risk to play a game of ploy with fate. Their son was a miracle yet trouble and they wouldn't change it for the treasures of the world. He can only imagine that is how Hermione and Ron felt with Rose.

Harry turned to Lily and lightly patted his hand on her head, ruffling her hair. "Sweetheart, how about you go and invite Hugo to go to Florean Fortescue's with us?"

"Really?" Lily gasped eagerly, her dark eyes shimmering delightfully whilst she beamed at him.

"Yes," Harry chuckled humorlessly. "And then maybe we can go to Sugarplum's after."

Lily squealed, her face that was once red in despair is now colored a bright pink of excitement, and her small feet stomping in anticipation as if she was trying to contain her enjoyment. She lunged forward to tightly embrace her father around his mid-section, her short arms barely able to wrap him wholly, and declared her gratitude in a muffle against his blue button-up shirt before she released him to skip her way to her distraught cousin.

 _That's better_. Harry grinned blithely as he ran a hand through his hair, combing back the few loose hair strands that had fallen over his face. He knew that his daughter could be easy to please enough to forget about her brother's departure momentarily with a few sweet treats, and later on she would begin to feel weary because she would spend at least a few minutes completely energized by the amount of sugar she would eat until she pleads him to tuck her to sleep.

"Harry," a stern voice called out to him from behind.

He grimaced slightly by how thick his voice sounded in the flinty pitch and he knew he was stuck in a lecture of his rash choices with his daughter. He whirled around to see Ginny staring at him incredulously, obviously disagreeable about his promise to their child and their nephew by the way how her eyes were widen irritably, her mouth was pursed together unpleasantly, and how her posture was being held; her shoulders were squared and her hands were grasping on her hips bodily – she is clearly not pleased by him.

"You know how she is when she eats sweets," she scolded, arching a thing brow. The tip of her ears were blushing red, the scattered dots of her freckles were seen more profound by her flaming cheeks, and her bright blue eyes are now darkened in displeasure.

Harry grinned. "I know."

Her brow was now domed in confusion as she stared at him puzzled. She contemplated his words and his wide smile, scanning his face thoroughly. The glint in his eyes was crafty, making her feel somewhat devious as he seemed, the one raised eyebrow was being suggestive almost like he was secretly implying. She never truly found this mocking side of his amusing when it was appointed to her especially when it concerned Lily and she knew that he was being purposely mysterious about his intentions, she just disliked not knowing it because she felt a bit slow at times.

Noticing the deliberation in her eyes, Harry snickered and then reached an arm to her to wrap it around her slender shoulders, pulling her towards his side as he leaned down to her level to press a quick chaste kiss on her rosy cheek, the shade becoming deeper by the touch of his affections.

"No need to worry, Gin," he said reassuringly with a light squeeze on her shoulder and a genuine smile on his plump lips. "I know what I'm doing."

Ginny sighed. "Only if you're sure."

"Positively."

"Okay," She nodded in agreement but then she formed a deep frown. "Unfortunately, I can't go with you."

"Why?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed.

"I got an owl this morning from Barnabas," Ginny began to explain remorsefully. "He wants me to interview Brevis Birch from the Tutshill Tornados about their win against the Quiberon Quafflepunchers. I haven't been able to watch the match because we were too busy buying school supplies for the boys but apparently this is the first comeback they had since the incident back in 1999 and are about to be participants for the European Cup."

Needless to say, Harry was intrigued; he hasn't had the time of day to watch a match of Quidditch due to his overly-stressful position at the Auror Office and the days he spent to buy the essentials necessary for his two sons for the school year. The crime level in the wizarding world has been abnormal throughout the years after the Second Wizarding War. Despite the peace being spread subsequently the death of the fearful dark lord, there are still reports of Lord Voldemort's followers – the Death Eaters – running amuck from various countries and Harry has members of his office away to track down the undeniable loyal suspects. Some of the Aurors haven't returned from their assignments for several months, some even years, but they still sent in reports of their whereabouts and their progress in capturing their assigned criminal. Three had returned with a total of ten Death Eaters charged for murder and were sentenced in life in Azkaban but there are still multiple freely walking the world at this moment.

"I need to get to him before _The Seeker_ and _The Quibbler_ do," Ginny continued, her voice breaking her husband out of his reverie, as she reached inside her purse and searched through the various items she has crammed inside, silently cursing at herself for casting the Undetectable Extension Charm for the many equipment she tended to carry around. "Those two are completely nutters over this and if they manage to publish it before the _Daily Prophet_ , Cuffe will have a fit."

"I thought the Tutshill Tornados disbanded after they lost to the Ballycastle Bats," Harry pointed out.

"They did but they formed together again for a comeback." Ginny sent him a mocking smirk. "You're awfully behind your Quidditch status, honey. I'm beginning to think you're somebody else in Polyjuice."

Harry chortled. He reminisced the months following the end of the war when distinct individuals had attempt to pose as him in order to gain the undesired attention that came along with his superfluous fame as The-Boy-Who-Lived and had managed to have an insider from Hogwarts to smuggle them a few crates of Polyjuice Potion for sickles to transform into him thus getting the absorption of the media. Unfortunately, Minerva McGonagall had captured the devious chum sneaking away the potions and to this day, the unnamed theft was still serving their punishment. Apparently, it was a third year student and the imposter was a withering elder man, who would have done Harry a favor of taking the limelight for him if it weren't the defect of his lack of his lightning bolt scar.

"No, no," he said. "Only the original here."

"Better be."

Before Harry could retort, the sound of hurried feet pattering in their direction was heard near. He looked ahead to see Lily approaching at them rapidly with her hand gripping onto Hugo's wrist to quicken his pace and from behind, he can see Ron and Hermione calmly walking, chatting animatedly among themselves with easy grins that seemed almost flirtatious. He knew Ron was trying to assure Hermione about Rose's departure with his goodhearted nature.

"Uncle Harry!" Hugo exclaimed diligently once he and Lily reached them before he bounded forward into Harry's torso, gripping on his neck with his arms as his Uncle held below to keep him from tumbling to the ground.

"Hey there, sport," Harry grinned. "Are you coming along?"

"Yes!" Hugo nodded vigorously. "I want Pumpkin Pasties! And Cauldron Cakes!"

Harry sniggered at his nephew's demands as he carried on with his wishful wants of sugary treats. Next to him, Ginny reached down to gather Lily in her arms and straightened herself as her daughter clutched on her shoulders, smiling whilst she listened to their youngest child also fussing about wanting twice what Hugo named.

By now, Ron and Hermione reached them.

"They haven't eaten anything and they're already hyper," Ron commented with a sly smirk. "Maybe they don't need sweets after all."

Hermione nudged Ron by the arm before she stepped closer to Harry to take Hugo in her arms, giving him a stone look to silence him when he began to protest and smiled in relief as he wordlessly laid his head on his shoulder.

"I'm surprised you even agreed to this, Hermione," Harry admitted.

"I'm not completely _okay_ with the idea," Hermione sighed. "But I know Hugo needs this right now with Rose leaving and all." She used one hand to brush back a few locks of her son's untamed red hair away from his face and then planted a solacing kiss on his temple.

"Perhaps after we can settle in the Leaky Cauldron," Harry suggested hopefully, his eyes glimmering with longing.

With the reality of their lives wedged between them, he had not seen his two long-term best friends for the longest.

Just like him, Hermione works at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a Counselor in the Wizengmot and a member of the Department of Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures. Her days are constantly consumed with cases about the Death Eaters captured, preparation for their court date by gathering evidence of their crimes that will likely sent them to Azkaban or perhaps be given the death sentence depending the numbers of violations held over their head, and then later on she would be in Wizengmot deciding on the fate of the accused. Also she was surrounded by cases of her own of the treatment of house-elves with pure-blood families who are still against the idea of giving them payment mandatory or allowing them any free days during the holidays.

And Ron was preoccupied with the frequent sales at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with his older brother, Fred Weasley. Apparently, after the war, Fred had managed to buy Zonko's Joke Shop in Hogsmeade like he and his late twin, George Weasley, had planned to do and products had attracted the young consumers or to the elder who still held a spec of childishness in the heart. The news about their shop had gained the eye of sponsors and buyers, some of them advertising their shop to have a quarter of their earnings. April was their busiest month every year. Hogwarts was filled with troublemakers and pranksters who try to live up to the image of the famous Weasley duo, always going to the shop to buy the latest product of the season to perform it at the school despite the result of them receiving a detention or suspension of school activities

"Sorry, mate, I can't," Ron frowned. "Fred has a new shipment of products coming in and wants me to be there to pick them up. Something about not wanting to get sued for them being bitey."

Harry sighed and turned to Hermione, who has a remorseful shine in her chocolate brown eyes.

"I need to head back to the Department soon," she stated guiltily. "Kingsley arranged a meeting for the Counselors about the case of Rowle. I think he wants us to discuss about the evidence we have against him."

"Oh," Harry murmured, his tone completely blue yet his attitude was animosity. He remembered Thorfinn Rowle perfectly well; he cannot forget the man who had tortured him cruelly in pleasure, who had burned down the only home of his fellow comrade, Rubeus Hagrid, and had tracked him down with his friends via the Taboo Curse on Voldemort's name to the café on Tottenham Court Road where a small battle had corrupted. He was gratified to be able to stun him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said sincerely.

Harry shook his head. "No need to apologize, 'Mione. That just gives me more time to spoil these two kids rotten without you breathing down my neck every five minutes," he grinned teasingly.

"Well, pardon me for worrying over my own son's dental care," Hermione scoffed.

The small group of bonded families shared a round of laughter, their children staring at them impatiently as they did. To the remaining departing parents and guardians, they can easily suspect that the four adults have shared a friendship as old as their ancestors, their relationships clearly grown unbreakable throughout the years not by the struggles they had to face personally during the time of darkness but by how they integrate well together. They could have been complete strangers meeting for the first time but their comfortable body languages blended naturally that one could not tell.

"I need to get going," Ginny said. "Well, we all do. Maybe we could all have supper together if it's not late."

"That'd be lovely," Hermione nodded.

Ginny returned the gesture and then turned to Harry to hand him Lily before she stretched up to her toes to press a peck to his cheek. He copied her actions following with another kiss to her faint rose red lips. After, Ginny went to her brother and her sister-in-law to drag them into her arms for a tight embrace then she planted a sweet kiss to the crown of Hugo's head as she playfully ruffling his shaggy hair back, causing him to giggle.

Lastly, she turned to Lily. "Behave for your dad today okay."

"Yes mum."

"Good, and save me a chocolate frog, too," Ginny grinned, giving a gentle kiss to her forehead. "See you when I get home."

"Bye bye."

Ginny glanced over at Harry once more, sending him a tender smile filled with adoration and veneration such as the pupil in her eyes were drowned by the affection surrounding them, before her body rapidly dissolved into thin air with a pop.

"I best get going too, I guess," Ron announced idly as he buried his hands in the pocket of his maroon slacks. "Fred will have me beheaded if I don't get those shipments soon." He gazed at his wife. "I'll see you when you get home."

Hermione stepped closer to her husband and stretched up to his height to mold their lips together in a gentle, innocent kiss. Harry had to turn his head to the side to not disturb the moment between his best friends by his eyes as Lily buried her face in the crook of his neck to muffle her giggles of naiveté at the mature sight and Hugo silently gagged in disgust at the exchange between his parents whilst he covered his eyes with one tiny hand. Then Hermione finally broke away from Ron and opened her eyes to notice the ditzy grin stretching over his now lip-gloss stained mouth, giggling lightly at his somewhat flaky reaction.

"See you," she said, nearly breathless by the kiss, and Ron cherished the small sound of affect.

"Bye."

As quickly as his younger sister did, Ron disappeared from the spot with a pop. Hearing the sound, Harry turned back to Hermione with a sheepish look as he reached one hand behind his head to awkwardly scratch the nape of his neck while the other held Lily closely to him, his cheeks clarion coated pink skin. He did not distaste being around another couple expression affections as he knows he does the same with Ginny whenever they are around company from time to time; he just felt rude for having his presence there as an interlude.

"Gross," Hugo muttered into Hermione's shoulder and Lily's giggles became into loud laughter in Harry's neck.

Hermione rolled her eyes at his comment and then lowered him to the ground with a huff. "You won't think like that when you're older and start fancying a bird."

"No way!" Hugo constrains another sound of antipathy. "Birds are gross."

At this, Lily's head snapped upward from her father's neck and glowered at her cousin. "Hey!"

"It's true!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Okay, okay, that's enough, you two," Harry interrupted the bickering children with a severe voice and a strict brow arch as he stared at them pointedly. "If you keep on squabbling then you'll get no sweets." He placed Lily down next to Hugo, his stare never wavering. "And I'll go as far as hiding the chocolate frogs for a month."

Hugo and Lily gawked at him. Chocolate frogs were their obsession out of the many candied treats they've eaten; they loved to be able to chase the sweet-flavored creature around in the kitchen because it would cause it to melt slightly and become a chewy sensation to their taste buds once apprehended. They enjoyed it for its chase and its taste.

"Are you sure you can take them?" Hermione asked. "Don't you have anything important at the Office today?"

"I got the rest of the day off for Albus and James," Harry replied casually. "Plus, with Ginny gone and when Lily takes a nap, I'll be left with nothing to do," he pointed out. "I need a break from work anyway."

Hermione's lips twitched by the corner as she watched Harry take Lily's hand in his and copied his actions with Hugo before they began to walk down towards the exit of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, her eyes thoroughly surveying the features of his face with such attentiveness. She knew that he was weary by the stressful overload of crimes piling up in his office, the majority related to the wanted Death Eaters scattered about, and he is a determined person who focuses on finishing a task his mind is settled into in contempt to the many convict files he has stored in. But it seemed like lack of leads to his fugitives are beginning to take a toll on him by how exhausted his eyes dimmed.

Once on the other side of the barrier, Hermione gingerly placed her other hand on Harry's upper arm, noting that his muscle seem to relax from their tension under her touch, and when he looked at her with expectant eyes, she allowed her eyes to be clouded over by uneasiness.

"How are things with the hunt for the Death Eaters and Snatchers?" she asked gently. "Still no word about the others?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet. The last report I got from them was Proudfoot. She was given a tip from a goblin when she was traveling in Wyoming. Apparently, a wizard purchased items that are used for dark potions and Proudfoot suspected that is could be Jugson or Yaxley. The goblin said he overheard the wizard saying he's going to Matterhorn and she's on her way there. Hopefully, she'll be okay."

"I'm surprised Yaxley is still roaming free," Hermione pointed out. "I thought he'd be the first person on the Ministry's list."

"Oh, he's definitely on top of a list – _my list_ ," Harry announced. "I've been working with the Investigation Department about his whereabouts, but so far it seems that whenever we get a lead to where he might be hiding, we end up with an empty hand. He knows we're looking for him and he's very clever to hide his tracks very well."

Lily glanced up at her father, her bright brown eyes innocent and virtuous. "Is he a really bad bloke, daddy?"

Harry smiled down at his daughter, her blameless eyes reducing the resentment he has been feeling throughout the years about his case of Yaxley by how naïve she was when it came to the cruelty of the world and it is a remembrance as to why he is constantly in the office, always hidden behind stacks of endless documents, countless meetings with members of the Investigation Department, continual searches on the field, and enduring hours of arduous training with his officers – he wanted to keep her protected from the types of sinful beings like the forsaken Death Eaters.

"Yes, he is, sweetheart," he answered benevolently.

"Is he scared of you?" Lily asked.

Hugo jumped at this, releasing his mother's hand as he whirled around to face his cousin with an incredulous look whilst he continued to walk in reverse.

"Of course he is!" he said. "He should be scared of Uncle Harry! He is the Chief Auror so that means he is the best! Death Eaters have no chance against him!"

Harry laughed at his nephew's over exaggerated antic yet felt appreciative to see how much he admired his work in the wizarding world. His own parents would always admire him for how he would arrest his criminals or seek out any convicts who had escaped from Azkaban and they would occasionally question him about the methods he'd use for his career. He figured that perhaps his children would share his stories of his journeys around Europe to South America to their cousins for them to be so laudable over him as an Auror.

"In fact, they should be scared of mum and dad, too!" Hugo kept on as he returned to his mother's side and tangled their hands again, his face smug. "They defeated Death Eaters, too. They'll be thinking twice if they ever want to duel them one day."

Hermione grinned at Hugo's enthusiasm in her and Ron's abilities against their old enemies; he was always fascinated by his parents after her husband had told them about their excursion for the Horcruxes and would randomly praise them as his personal gods. He was very glad to have such respectable idols as his family even though he knew he would later in life try to live up to their images but he felt special to be their son and she was blessed to have him.

"I don't think Death Eaters will be on your doorsteps anytime soon," Harry said. "At least, not when they know I'm hunting them."

Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile. Then she noticed around her that they were already in the parking lot near the train station and from the corner of her eye, she can see the beige '97 Audi parked in the space by the corner of the lot where she had persuaded Ron to take after taking many unnecessary rounds for an empty spot close to the entrance. She can see several men in sleek suits scurrying hurriedly into the station, a family gladly accepting a relative with welcoming arms by the front doors, a woman exiting the building with two children looking upset at the ground as they walked in sync with their mother, and other passengers trudging by them. She had to pull Hugo to her right side when they passed a man in a dark coat standing by a Sudan, reading the new issues of the morning newspaper while he inhaled the toxic chemicals of his cigar – she did not want any of her own blood to experience secondhand smoke.

When they reached a matte black 1972 Wolseley Six, Hugo reached over to Harry and tentatively tugged the hem of his coat, making him peer down at him.

"Do you think I can be an Auror when I'm older, Uncle Harry?" Hugo wondered.

"If you put your heart and mind to it then you will one day." Harry kneeled down by his nephew and patted his head affectionately. "But for now, just enjoy being a kid. Time flies quicker than you think."

Hugo grinned widely, his perfectly whitened teeth shining beneath the blistering heat of the summer sun, and nodded vigorously, his ginger red hair flying around with the movement of his head.

Lily treaded closer to her father to wrap her small arms around his neck from behind and laid her head on his shoulder as she pouted adorably, her bright eyes burning amber in curiosity. She tightened her grip when she felt him shift in her embrace as he turned to her and brought her in a hold in his arms at the same time he straightened.

"Can I become an Auror, daddy?" she inquired.

"You too?" he smirked. "You will need to talk to your mum about that one. I don't think she'd approve of her princess getting all dirty."

"So? Look at Princess Fiona – she got dirty and all before she became an Ogre," Lily pointed out.

"Alright," Harry chortled. He can easily see that she had inherited Ginny's stubbornness. He turned to Hermione to see her searching through her purse with concentrated brows furrowed and her lips pressed together. "Are you sure you need to get going right now?"

Hermione looked up, her face a contrition. "Unfortunately. Believe me, I'd be all for sweets and treats with you, Harry, but I just have so many cases I need to attend for and you know how the Wizegmot can be when a counselor is absent. Plus, I have so many reports of violations piling up that I hardly have time to even think to myself."

"Whoa, then it must be serious," Harry gasped in mock awe. "Hermione Granger not thinking? The world must be ending."

"Oh, shut it," Hermione laughed, sending a quick swipe to his arm, eliciting a snicker from her pestering best friend before she closed her purse and then went down on her knees beside her son. "Now you," she began. "Behave with your Uncle while I'm gone. Your father or I will come and pick you up later at his house, okay?"

"Yes mum."

"Good." She reached forward to cup his freckled cheeks in her palm and brought her head onward with her lips puckered, pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead. She pulled back to place another on the tip of his slightly red nose before she rectified herself and fixed her attention to Harry. "Are you sure you can take care of the two of them? Because I have no problem ringing up Molly and see if she can babysit Hugo. Although, I'm sure she would have no problem with it."

Molly Weasley, the grandmother of their children, was still currently living in the Burrow with her husband, Arthur Weasley, and they would often visit her when they possibly can with their children because she simply enjoyed being surrounded by her grandchildren. She had missed having toddlers bustling around her home. With Ginny and Ron being her last remaining kids, she was devastated to see them either move out or to see that their lives have begun when they had gotten married so soon. It was lonely for her to wake up in the mornings knowing that the bedrooms were no longer occupied by a baby she had given birth to or that she did not need to make a large portion of breakfast although she still has her husband. She missed smothering and mothering.

When she had gotten the news of Harry and Ginny expecting to have James, she was ecstatic to know that she would be needed at some point to help them balance out their lives with their new addition and would be able to spend her spare time to do what she knew best. Then Ron and Hermione had Rose, she was in hysterics to see her home being slowly filled in the small voids it contained, basically bawling in joyous tears to feel wanted by clingy infants and seeking for her attention. She would always offer her services to take care of their children at any time when they needed a babysitter and she was quick to take advantage to spoil them rotten.

"Hermione, you seem to have already forgotten that I've raised a house of three kids," Harry rebutted teasingly, hiking up Lily to have her against his hip as he held her protectively. "I'm quite sure I can handle two."

"Just making sure." Her hand unconsciously landed on top of Hugo's head and her fingers effortlessly slipped through his hair. "This one can be a handful when he wants to be."

" _Mum!_ " Hugo whined.

"I'm sure I can handle him," Harry said. "I've lived with Ron for seven years."

"True."

The two best friends shared a quick moment of laughter at their insider before they slowly paused into a silence. Hermione cleared her throat and brushed back a tendril behind her ear.

"Well, I best be going," she murmured. "Thank you again for this, Harry."

"No problem."

Hermione leaned upward to Harry's level and her lips softly caressed his cheek, lightly kiss a small patch of his stubble. He stood still, his body almost stiff under the tenderness of her moist flesh pressed upon his rough skin, as he felt her linger there for a few seconds longer than essential for a simple gratitude gesture. Then she retreated and he released a puff of air he did not know he had been holding.

"I'll pick him up around nine," she stated.

Harry nodded wordlessly.

Hermione smiled once again before her body had liquesced into a whirl of air from where she stood and then she disappeared with a pop.

* * *

Harry was beginning to think that Ron and Hermione had secretly planned to leave him with Hugo before they dropped off their children on the Hogwarts Express. The young lad was a smattering overdose of hyperactive and eager to the few things that attracts him regularly. When they had reached the Leaky Cauldron, he was freely engaged in a continuous conversation with the landlady, Hannah Longbottom, always speaking about his random hobbies or favorite abilities as a half-blood wizard, stating that he would became as intelligent as his mother and as fearless as his father. Harry had to pull him away from the diffident landlady and asked to send his regards to her husband, Neville Longbottom before he dragged the two exuberant children to the entrance for the market area in the chilly courtyard.

He brought out his wand to tap on the wall in an anti-clockwise order, causing the bricks to he touched to quiver then to wriggle before it slid back to create a hole in the center and seconds later, an archway was formed in front of them. It still amazes Harry to see such a colorful buildings structured on the bustling cobblestone path, to be able to see the same grounds he had first walked on after he discovered he was a wizard twenty-six years ago, and where he held many memories with his close friends before they left to Hogwarts for a new term of mystery. He enshrined on the sight of wizards and witches crowding the area inside or outside the stores, some surrounding the street vendors for their new line of products, others standing in front of the window to awe at the display of upcoming material, and others were hustling through the raging audiences. Most of the customers were families spending the day together or friends just walking around aimlessly to pass the day.

With the death of Voldemort still looming over, everything and everything in the wizarding world was livelier than before.

Harry took both hands of the kids and as they walked through the archway, Harry noticed from the corner of his eye that Lily had glanced over her shoulder in time to see the wall rearrange itself back into place, breathing out an impressed gasp. It was not her first time coming to Diagon Alley but most of the time he or Ginny would apparate or use Floo powder to come into the market place and it was unusual to approach the main entrance to enter the place so he was not surprise to see Lily fascinated by the wall behind them.

After the war, it took about four months to repair the shops and stores even with magic. Some material needed to be replaced because the Death Eaters had used the dark arts to destroy some of the buildings to find their needed hostages. Some were burned to ashes or become into nothing. Along with Hogwarts being the one place to have received the largest damage of them all and had taken a year to repair the famous landmark from its drastically physical damages before it reopened to continue educating novice magical beings. Although, it was mostly known as the graveyard to those who had fallen in battle and it was a grieving notice to some of his former classmates who had taken positions at the old school. Originally, Harry wanted to be in the position of the Defense against the Dark Arts professor but Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had declined his application for it because she wanted him to no longer be attached to his past and to continue to live his life properly like he deserved as she said in her own words. He was allowed to come for the specific class as a guest invited to teach certain lessons with their new professor.

Traveling down the path with the two exploring children by hand, Harry glanced at the newly rebuilt shops – he hardly recognized them if it weren't for the signs hanging overhead. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was standing a good five feet tall, the windows large with the height where there are several robes floating by the glass for display but the front door was the smallest of the store. Potage's Cauldron Shop was hardly new, the small cracks on the walls were mended and the buckled glasses of the windows are invisible. Quality Quidditch Supplies was the one shop that seem to be known as the Empire State building in Diagon Alley by how it hovered over the streets, the sign seeming rather puny by how wide and lanky the structure is. Magical Menagerie was secluded from all damage but it seemed packed with raging animals and attracted youngsters. Slug and Jiggers Apothecary has been restored into its majestic sight and restocked of its potion ingredients. Rosa Lee Teabag was full of satisfying scents of brewing teas and freshly baked biscuits, no signs of the war being struck there. Twilfitt and Tattings still filled with their regular pure-bloods consumers, the building grown into a good eight feet tall during reconstruction.

When they reached a curve down the path, Harry spotted Gringott's Wizarding Bank and grimaced at the thought of the one goblin who had betrayed him during the war. He never truly liked Griphook; the more he saw his personality was very barbaric and savage when it came to witnessing the pain of other magical creatures inferior to his kind and was quite eager to be the one to harm wizards or witches. His hatred in wizards ran deep enough to try to turn in Harry and his friends when they broke in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault but they managed to escape by riding away on a dragon used to guard. Harry learned that Griphook's fate was death by Voldemort.

Afterwards, he saw the slightly broken walls and newly replaced windows of Ollivander's. A pang of remorse shot through him at the view of the building, the memories of him meeting Ollivander playing in his mind like a movie as he stared at the store. The walls still held evidence of the time when Death Eaters broke in to take him as hostage for Voldemort, the insides of the store can be seen some burnt marks of when the dark followers collided into the area, and the sign above was somewhat crooked. It was still indecisive on whether they should finish repairing the shop because it was one of the oldest in their history and they did not want to change any part of a factual as Ollivander's, wanting to keep it as a memoir to the late owner. Some of the wands were able to be saved from the fire of the destruction but the rest were needed to be carved once again for the upcoming generation of wizards and witches – everyone knew that would be Ollivander's final request.

Breaking his gaze from the store, Harry noticed that Lily and Hugo had escaped from his grasp. He saw them sprinting ahead of them, their childish giggles heard through the roars of the crowd and making others smile amusingly by the chastity the youth finally has a chance to experience with ease. He was about to call out to them but then closed his mouth once he saw that they were entering the familiar, favored flashy colors of sugary goodness of Sugarplum's Sweets Shop. He grinned at their impatience and shook his head as he followed them, greeting to the people who acknowledged him politely.

Subsequently, he walked inside the shop full of at least twenty children greedily stacking up cavity-creating treats in a plastic bags that did not seem to be filled at all and he was able to detect the noticeably flaming red hairs lounging around the front counter, mindlessly deciding to choose a delicious treat to eat. He approached them, avoiding being trampled by the group of excessively active off-springs that raced in his direction and nearly tumbled him over as they bolted towards the shelves of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"Have you made up your minds?" he asked them as he made his way to them.

Lily twirled around, her hair flying around in the whirl, and she grinned brightly at her father. "I want some cauldron cakes and droobles!"

"And I want pumpkin pastries and chocolate frogs!" Hugo claimed loudly over the squeals and yells of the other younglings nearby.

"You can only have one thing from here," Harry issued seriously. "Remember after this we're going to get some ice cream. And we have loads of chocolate frogs back home, Hugo, we'll have some afterwards."

Reluctantly, the two relatives agreed with Harry and turned their attention to the employee behind the counter to give her their orders. As the female employee began to open up the counter for their favored sweets, Harry brought out his wallet to produce the right amount of money for payment – ten sickles for the pumpkin pastries that Hugo chose and sixteen sickles for the two cauldron cakes that Lily settled for. He handed the money to the employee before he held the two kids by their shoulders as he led them out of the crazed shop.

"Thanks, daddy!" Lily praised as she delicately undid the wrappings of her small box although her fingers were shaking in eagerness and had taken her several attempts to finally rip the wrapping off the box before she pulled the lid open, revealing the cauldron-shaped cake filled with chocolaty liquid inside.

"Yeah, thanks Uncle Harry!" agreed Hugo, who had already managed to break his box apart and began to shove bites of his pumpkin pastries in his mouth.

 _He really is Ron's son_ , Harry thought as he raised a brow, watching the comical ways how his nephew devoured the pastry then munched it loudly with his mouth open, some of the crumbs slipping out of his mouth and onto the collar of his shirt. In another life, if Hugo was not born with the ginger hair genes or the freckles cheeks, one will know he is related to Ronald Weasley by his remarkable appetite.

"Are you going to get us ice cream now, daddy?" Lily inquired hopefully. Hugo also glimpsed up at Harry, his face displaying Lily's voice.

"Yes," Harry nodded. He smiled tenderly at them as Lily and Hugo cheered, however, their elations were muffled by the confection stuffed in their mouths.

The rest of the afternoon seemed to be going by in a blur. Harry could only remember arriving Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream parlor and finally satisfying the kid's hunger for the creamy taste of chocolate and strawberry – Harry had bought himself a large sundae of chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts just like the one that Hagrid had bought for him on his first visit there. They had seated themselves in the one lone table available in front of the parlor. Lily had saved her cake for future purposes and was taking her time to enjoy the softness of her strawberry swirl but Hugo had swallowed his pumpkin pastries whole to be able to inhale his fudge pop, too.

As he watched them, he was once again reminded of the absence of his two sons and his one niece. Normally, Rose would scold Hugo for being barbarous when eating and would wipe away any substance with a napkin whereas James and Albus would try to compete with the other by trying to eat their meals the quickest in order to entertain Lily by the suspension of the unknown champion of the duel. He enjoyed being able to watch them together because they would resemble him and his best friend when they were adolescents too – Rose was like Hermione trying to keep Ron in check with his horrible eating habits or James and Albus were like Harry and Ron challenging each other on a round of Wizard Chess while Hermione sat on the sidelines watching them in hilarity. It was amazing to see how the new generation of them could be so similar and poignant at the same time.

By the time they were done with their ice creams, the sky was colored in an orange-red burnt streak with a shade of faint pink overtaking the horizon and the movements of the toddler were somewhat sluggish as they cleared up the remains of their desserts from the table they had reserved for the day. Harry knew that all their energy was drained from their rapid talking and playful antics among themselves so he settled in carrying them in both of his arms as he trudged the path back down to the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron with a box containing a cauldron cake levitating beside him. Half-way through the walk, he glanced down at wristwatch over Lily's hunched back and saw that it was already six – he needed to be home to prepare dinner for Ginny before she came home and had three hours until Hermione clocked out of work.

Shifting Hugo in his right arm, he opened his hand as to summon the box to his palm before he tighten his hold on the children and disapparated out of Diagon Alley, feeling all the energy from his relatives fuel inside him as he delved their bodies rapidly through the air. He was not sure if it was because he wasn't going to be entirely alone in his home for a couple of hours or because he was lucky to know he had not spent too many hours outside before it was time for Hermione to retrieve her son. She was still the daughter of two Muggle dentists; she grew up taking care of her teeth under or outside of their roof and Harry was certain that she had likely passed her habits down to her children. If she were to learn that he had fed her youngest son nothing but cavity then she would hex him without hesitation despite him being her best friend. He can only hope that Hugo would be awaken before Hermione arrive so he can have him brush his teeth with the extra toothbrushes he has stored safely for his overnight stays and to thoroughly floss out the pastries between his teeth.

Unfortunately, once Harry landed on the doorsteps of his with a huff and was about to search for his keys in his pockets, he paused for a moment to register an important fact, a mistake he cursed himself for. He meekly whirled around to face the driveway that lack the presence of his car and groaned inwardly. He had forgotten that he had driven to the Leaky Cauldron and now he needed to return there once again to collect his car which meant he needed to suffer through the possible heavy traffic that is probably formed in the streets at this time of day. If Ginny was home, he would have left Lily and Hugo home while he went back to the inn but how hapless it was for him that she was needed this day. He knew he was doomed.

 _Hermione is going to murder me in blood for this_ , he thought horribly before he apparate them back to the Leaky Cauldron, already dreading his ride back home.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	3. Red Paper

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned. But I do own this plot.

 **A:N:** Thank you to all who favored and follow this story. It made me very happy. And thank you to **123irish** for mentioning the small errors I made in the previous chapter - I will fix that up as soon as possible! Also to those who recently arrived thank you for reading the story. I hope you all like this new chapter!

Enjoy!

* * *

 _We used to say_

 _That we were_

 _Brother and sister_

 _We used to think_

 _Nothing, was ever better_

 _Today I break, my promises_

 _To stay out of the emptiness_

 _Today let's make our promises_

 _For tomorrow_

Little Sister; Jonathan Clay

* * *

 _"I think writing about the time in Hermione's life that I write growing from childhood into womanhood literally because when she finish the book she's eighteen. I think it brought back to me how very difficult it is. So much is expected of you as you become a woman and often you are asked to sacrifice parts of you in becoming a girl, I would say. Hermione doesn't. She doesn't play the game, if you like."_

\- The Perfect Hermione Granger; J.K Rowling

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Red Paper**

Hermione Granger liked to describe herself as a hard worker, maybe even an extremely dedicated person when it came to passion of hers being involved. She had proven that during the years she had spent as the leader of S.P.E.W trying to correct the treatment of house-elves by going to meetings with the Ministry of Magic to persuade them with her facts and also recruiting more members who surprisingly supported the cause to the fullest. Her organization became worldwide in three months after the war had proven the lengths that the elves provide and the same people, who were against her idea of protesting the cruel treatment from the pure-blood wizard families, were now standing tall by her side to end the unnecessary brutality of the innocent magical creatures. The organization fought forcefully in belief, always arriving to the need of creature in vain and aiding them to health or sheltering them farther from unconsented wizards, and there were also small battles occurring by resistance of the owner that Hermione had to personally finish with a negotiation. It was one the many specialties she was born with and she was able to convince them of their release of their magical creature although other were needed more than words to sway.

The small changes being rooted to her system had made it to the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ but it was told in a more hateful perspective. The reporter, Rita Skeeter, had interviewed a pure-blood widow about how she felt of her house-elf suddenly dependent of themselves after having an encounter with S.P.E.W and had lost a servant. Apparently, the faith of the institution had affected the courage of the creature's abilities and slowly the numbers of tortured critters increased during the time as they walked out on their master to live freely. Some of them had even reported to Hermione of their escape and she would search for a decent ground for them to live in as a start-up to their new lives as equal individuals. The widow had mentioned the leader being a Muggle-born and it did not take long for the authorities to identify. Her headquarters was not hidden; she had held her meetings with the group in her former apartment in Greenwich, South-East London and it did not take long for the Ministry of Magic appearing inside her living room to take her hands in custody for the "robbery" of magical creatures when in reality they had ran away. Harry and Ron visiting her when they arrested her, engaging in a heated discussion of her rights being violated but she assured them that she was going to be fine before they apparated her away.

She remembered sitting in the accusation chair in the center of the Wizengamot while listening to Kingsley quote out her rights and watching all fifty counselors leering down at her to the nose with disapproval expressions, clearly not fond of her actions. They had begun to question her harshly, hardly giving her a chance to explain her choices on those who were against her reasons, and was nearly sent to life in Azkaban by her conclusions to their crude behavior towards her.

"I know most of you are pure-bloods and you lot feel threatened by me because I'm a Mudblood," she had said. "And not just any Mudblood, but the first to go against how your system works and you know I can rearrange it in a heartbeat. That's why I'm here."

But if Harry hadn't arrived the court declaring that he is a witness to her confrontations, they would have summoned the guards to escort her to a possible life of isolation. She was glad that the Dementors were not used by the government anymore because she did fear of them sucking out all the goodness out of her and being left in a depressant state while stuck in a cell. She preferred an Auror. Harry came to her aid, detailing the actions of the times he witnessed and restating the words spoken towards Hermione that were considered disrespectful and blasphemous. During the whole time, the chains on the arms of the chair never sprung to life to bind her and the counselor's knew that she was innocent through Harry's honesty. She was released of all charges and was guided out of the Wizengamot to where Ron had been waiting for her, jittery in nervousness. When they reached him, the boys had engulfed Hermione in a tight embrace between them, both claiming their concerns for her throughout the hours.

Shortly, Kingsley Shacklebolt had approached Hermione with a job offer as a member of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, stating that he was fascinated by her drive to perfect the system of the Ministry as well as he is. He had proposed her to use her methods from her organization in the department to help him eradicate the pro-blood laws and bring equality to the magical creatures. Hermione had accepted his proposal with no hesitation and ever since that day, the two employees had managed to overturn some of the laws to free the inferior creatures but they are still currently working on the rather beastly ones to this day. It was difficult to convince for their freedom when there have been reports of attacks and harmed victims by them.

As the years progressed on, many articles in the _Daily Prophet_ of their work had reached the front paper and on page number nine for political events although they were inaccurate. Hermione was also interviewed for _Witch Weekly_ despite the warfare that had occurred between them in her fourth year and she had made cover of the magazine captioned as THE BRIGHTEST WITCH OF THE CENTURY. She kept the issue as a trophy for to her success to humiliating Rita Skeeter of her false accusations of her being a 'scarlet woman' in her fourth year. Word about Hermione's achievements swam around different magical communities throughout the world, gaining the respect from a small percentage of pure-bloods for her motivation and becoming an idol to Muggle-born witches or wizards who also share the same struggles as her. She had made a name for herself instead of being known as the best friend of Harry Potter or being one-third of the famous Golden Trio and she was known by having her own Famous Witches and Wizards card.

A year later, Kingsley had appointed her as a counselor of the Wizengamot. His reason was because he needed someone wise and clear-headed when a suspect is being judged on. Also he had been given a high recommendation by Auror trainees Harry Potter and Ron Weasley that she was the one person they trusted who could find important information or history needed and had been the main reason why Dolores Umbrige was exposed then imprisoned. Hermione and Ron had gotten married recently at that time when the position was offered which ended up in a conflict of the two for nearly two weeks until Ron resigned and agreed to her accepting the proposal. His logic was hysterical to Hermione because in an odd sense she was also in the enforcement for the same reasoning.

"What better way to get back at those barmy bastards then to send them to the Dementors? They don't work for the Ministry anymore but they deserve a treat once in a while." he had confessed to her in a joking yet serious manner and she had laughed at his odd sense of humor.

She spoke to Kingsley the day after their agreement and her name had appeared in a plate on the court room as Hermione Granger: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic an hour later after she signed the contract for her position. Eventually, in time, an abundant of Death Eaters and Snatchers were proven guilty of their crimes thus were sent to Azkaban for life with no parole because of her live and concrete evidence.

Thinking back at those key points of her life, Hermione could not believe she had managed to accomplish so much at such a young age.

Currently, in an office filled with multiple file cabinets overstuffed with folders of reports and documents, bookshelves towering overhead to the ceiling where books were seen floating in and out of as they organized themselves, and two members of her department sitting on the deep brown leather seats chatting together quietly, Hermione was on the chair behind her desk which was covered by separate stacks of paper. The one on the left were the ones she needed to review and the other on the right was the ones ready to be taken in by the morning. She had spent nearly four hours in her meeting with Kingsley and the other counselors about the Rowle case that surprised her by all the cryptic evidence that she had gathered from her hunt for the Horcruxes along with the crimes he had performed throughout her years in Hogwarts and before. But he had managed to twist his story into him being in caught in the Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses, by Lord Voldemort and later added his life before he met the Dark Lord.

It made the counselors befuddled by how his story seemed to go with his actions and had taken it under consideration before they come to a concluded punishment for him. But Hermione was not convinced.

Presently, she was reviewing on a sheet of paper about the Rowle case. She sat back against her hair and began to read.

 **Defendant:** Thorfinn Rowle

 **Defendant Attorney:** Olivia Mark

 **Charged For:**

1\. Murder of Muggles

2\. Murder of Micheal Thomas

3\. Murder of Benjy Fenwick

4\. Murder of Florean Fortescue

5\. Murder of Igor Kakaroff

6\. Murder of Octavius Pepper

7\. Property Damage

8\. Robbery

9\. Rape of Elizabeth Marsh

10\. Rape of Amelia Peaches

11\. Rape of Talia Clark.

12\. Death Eater

 **Under Consideration For:**

1\. Pleaded not guilty; under the influential of the Imperius Curse by Lord Voldemort.

 **Statement:**

"I was coming home from Diagon Alley when it happened. They came out of nowhere, just appeared in front of me. I couldn't see who it was because they were wearing a cloak but I know it was a man by his voice. I heard him say the Imperius Curse and after that everything was black. I don't remember anything I did or said. All I remember is waking up in a pile of debris and some Aurors taking me away after that. The rest is history."

 **Alibies:**

1\. Gibbon

2\. Frank Bryce

3\. Bertha Jorkins

 **Plaintiff:** Ministry of Magic

 **Plaintiff Attorney:** Hermione Granger

 **In Court For:**

To confirm the charges of defendant are a violation to **Clause 68** of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy; all actions used against another wizard/witch **will receive any form of punishment** if given by the Ministry of Magic.

 **Court Date:** November 1, 2017

 **Time:** 006:20 PM

 _We expect all participants to be_ _on time_ _for when court is in session._

\- Kingsley Shacklebolt

 _Signature_

 _Date_

"Bugger," Hermione muttered unpleasantly as she dropped her papers in a folder she has laid out flat on her desk and flipped it shut before she pushed it farther from her. Fluttering her eyes closed, she leaned forward to lean against her elbows and pressed her fingers against her temples, deeply rubbing into her throbbing veins whilst she let out an aggravated sigh.

One of the members sitting in the leather chairs turned to the sound. "Is everything alright, Hermy?"

"Everything is fine, Gerald," she murmured, resigned. "Just tired."

Gerald Dillingham was her assistant; he was a dashing young man at the age of twenty-nine. He has short jet black curly hair tucked tightly that could make a person want to run their fingers through it to feel the lushness of his locks, a pair of striking clear blue eyes that almost seem like a glowing crystal if the lightening shined upon them in a perfect angle, and his skin was nearly flawless by how the paleness never seems to have suffered any blemishes in his adolescences or scarred from his childhood. His body was well-structured. His muscles in his arms were balanced with his broad shoulders, his torso seem smooth beneath the silky material of his suit, and his hands seemed calloused by the slight whiteness dusted on his knuckles. He was an honest gentleman too; he had admitted to Hermione on his first few weeks as her assistant that he was interested in men and nobody in his life knew aside from his past lovers. He trusted her with his secret because he can see that she is open-minded and not judgmental as she made herself seem in court or meetings.

Homophobia was common in the government and Hermione understood that he wanted a trusted friend so she accepted him for who he is. She always wanted a gay friend anyway.

"Doesn't sound like it's fine," said the other member sitting from across Gerald.

"That's because it isn't," Hermione admitted aggravatingly, peeling her eyes open. She leaned back into her chair and crossed her arms as she stared down at the folder in displeasure. "The justice system is mucked up."

"You're just learning this now?"

A smirk appeared on her wary face although it did not seem to bright up in her eyes. "Shut it, Julie. You're in no position to say that when you're working for it."

"Neither are you," Julie snickered.

Julie White was the second assistant she hired six months after she hired Gerald. She was the eldest one in their group being forty-four of age however she still held the attractive glow of her younger years; she was a classic female with long dirty blonde hair accompanied by honey brown highlights that was freed straight over her shoulders like sunlight, her eyes were a mysterious mixture of green and blue in a smoky hazel gaze, and her skin was a bit rough at some patches of markings left behind by some blemish she recently had but they never disrupted her beauty. The outline of the curve of her body could be defined by how her suit held her perfectly in the right places, and her fingers seemed fragile by how it was smooth from rough skin. She was a playful woman; she would always make quips at random moments so Hermione would be able to laugh away any stress that builds up in her by her job and to be able to relax. Sometimes she would pull Hermione away from her office to have lunch in Hogsmeade or a simple cup of Butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron just to relax. She did not know about Gerald's secret interests in men but she grew fond of him dearly.

"Point taken," Hermione murmured. She reached over for a sheet of paper from her stack on the left and read the information written, her face drastically becoming tiring as she continued on. It was another demand to keep ownership of Hippogriff spotted roaming around nearby the forest of their home and she instantly knew that it was Buckbeak; after the war, Hagrid had taken the creature under his care again but he did not use him for lessons like he did in her third year. He would let Buckbeak soar around freely or have a walk around the forests for a few hours to let him have the independent freedom he was born with.

"You want to go and have a cuppa?" Julie suggested kindly. "You look like you could use a break."

"If I use coffee as a way to relieve stress I'll become addicted to it," Hermione pointed out as she placed the paper on the desk and took her quill from its stand to dip it in the bottle of ink nearby before she signed her signature in the declined box.

"But then you'll be a workaholic," Julie countered.

Hermione reached for another paper sheet. "Already am."

Gerald rolled his eyes. He shifted his weight on the chair to lean forward with his elbows leaning on his knees and his hands locked together. He knew that Hermione can sense his stare on her by how she fidgeted with the quill and nibbled her lower lip with her teeth along with her dark eyes staring at the paper too intensely. She was like the open books she loved to read.

"It's the case isn't it?" he guessed sincerely. "It's getting to you."

Hermione let out a sigh and dropped her quill while she slumped back into her chair again. "Yes."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "You'll win the court in your favor like the last ones."

"I don't even know this time," Hermione blurted out. "Rowle somehow managed to make the counselors believe him to not be with a ridiculous story of him being in the Imperius Curse the whole time and he was pretty convincing as much as I hate to admit it. If it weren't for my encounters with him, I'd probably believe him too."

"But what about your evidence?" Julie asked.

"Apparently memories aren't exactly concrete to the Wizengamot," Hermione said. "In my position that could be considered cheating so unless I can bring a pensieve into the courtroom, Rowle has them on his side right now. Especially with his allies. If those people confirm his story then he's won the whole case already." She brought her hands up to rub them over her face as she unintentionally let out a light yawn and then massaged her eyes with her knuckles in an attempt to wipe away the grogginess forming up. "Maybe I could take a break for a cuppa," she insisted.

Julie pursed her lips. By the tone of Hermione's voice, she knew that she was exceedingly overworked by the Thowle case. Julie personally thought that it would have ended by Hermione's visual and collective evidence towards the suspect but for her to recently learn that a simple faux background story was able to have the counselors reconsider their choice on Thorfinn was devastating. Right there Julie knew that the justice system of the government was truly in ruins for turning a blind eye to the obvious. It was disappointing to see that the people who are trusted to keep the wizarding world at peace were unworthy even under Kingsley's commands.

"What about all the witnesses?" Gerald asked. "Those usually work as concrete evidence."

"No change," Hermione replied. "They are witnesses of his attacks but they weren't there to prove against his background."

"But there must have been someone who saw Voldemort cast the curse on him," Gerald retorted. "Diagon Alley is a rowdy place so someone must have seen it."

Hermione blinked, realization dawning to her like lightning. "That's right," she whispered. Then she sprung forward to snatch the folder from her desk and flipped it open, her eyes instantly scanning over the court sheet frantically with a glint of aspiration. Once she reached the statement section, she grinned as she read over the words. "He never stated the time of day!" She looked at Gerald. "You're brilliant!"

"I already knew that," Gerald snorted.

All of a sudden, a chime echoed inside the room. Hermione glanced over at the father clock settle in the far east corner of her office next to one of her bookshelves, noticing that it was already ten o' clock for the evening. From here she can see three hand with the enchanted pictures of her son, her niece, and Harry pointed towards the section that read _Godric's Hollow_. She felt calm to know that her best friend was considerate to have her remaining child safe behind doors this late at night.

"I need to get going," she declared, her voice chirping happily. She rose up from her chair and stretched her arms up, hearing her stiff joint pop loose. "Hugo must have given Harry a run for his money today."

"How is the little tyke?" Julie inquired.

Hermione sighed. She glanced over at the one picture frame standing on her desk. Inside the frame was a picture of her two children; Rose was seven. She was wearing a lavender jacket over a simple shirt and a pair of Bermuda shorts. Her hair was parted into two loose pigtails and her front teeth had fallen out, leaving a large gap in her infectious smile. She was holding a five year old Hugo in her arms. He had a firm grip on her shoulders and his legs were tied around her by the hips as he stared forward. His hair was still short to his head, almost seeming spikey, his freckles were hardly noticeable, and his eyes were clearing up from brown to transcendent blue. He was wearing a pale yellow polo shirt with the two buttons undone, his short pants were copper colored, and his small toes peaked out of his sandals. He had a Spiderman bandage on his knee for the small scrap he got from playing in the park the previous day.

They were innocently smiling as Rose poked her fingers in Hugo's ribs, causing the young lad to giggle under her touch and then he would embrace her with one arm, his head tentatively laid upon her small shoulder while he waved to the camera with his sister. They were merry, joyful, when they are together even though they have their moments of disrespecting the other but they always fell back as one in the end. It was a dismal thing for Hermione to have to see Hugo act dreary without the presence of his older sister.

"He's really upset of Rose leaving but I'm quite sure he's forgotten about it for now. Harry took him and Lily out for sweets. Hopefully not too much sweets."

"And Ron?"

"Ron couldn't take him because he needed to run some errands for his brother," Hermione explained as she darted across her desk in a flurry, shrinking them by a flick of her wand before gathering up her books and parchments into a black leather book. She then swished her wand to the stacks of documents to make them levitate towards their respective spots in her office, the right heading over to a small tray on small table next to her door for them to be collected by the morning and the left was placed on the empty space of an open drawer in her filing cabinet to be tucked away.

"I have no doubt he's home waiting for me and Hugo," Hermione added.

Gerald and Julie also stood from their chairs.

"If it's not too much trouble, Gerald, do you think you can try to arrange an interrogation with Rowle for me?" she requested politely as she hiked up the strap of her beige purse over her shoulder and pushed her chair in. "Tell them I sent you. I could write you a letter, too."

"For when?"

"Make it for this Thursday," she said. "I have a couple of questions for him."

"They won't bring him unless it's approved by an Auror," Julie indicated. "He may be our suspect in the case but he's still their prisoner under custody."

Hermione grinned. "That won't be a problem." She brought her attention to Gerald. "Can you do that for me then?"

"It wounds me that you even have to ask me, Hermy," Gerald chuckled with a mischievous smirk. He reached for his satchel and draped it over his shoulders, the strap stretching across his torso to his waist.

"No need to act cocky," Hermione remarked teasingly while she walked around her desk, the base of her low heels clacking along the floor in the rhythm of her steps, until she stood in front of them. She reached up to pull Gerald down in her arms as she clutched on him in a grateful, friendly embrace, lightly patting him behind his shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder before she released him.

"You owe me, Hermy." He pointed at her before his body dissolved into thick swirling air and disappeared with a pop.

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. She turned to her dirty-blonde haired second assistant. "See you in the morning, Julie."

"See you, Granger."

With a nod, Hermione disapparated.

* * *

Hermione huffed once her feet landed in the gravel, nearly losing her balance by the impact of her apparation. She shivered by the gentle breeze of the evening that had flown by and popped the collar of her trench coat up to her neck before she held it closer to her body as she tromped over to the small front gate. But before she undid the latch to the rusted metal gate, she appraised at the marvelous sight that stood tall beyond the gate. Even though she had visited Harry's home for occasional arranged family dinner dates, play dates for the children, or to naturally spend the day with her best friend and husband together like in their younger times, she was always mesmerized by the grace and charming formation of the lovely home.

Before Harry had went into the training program for being an Auror, he had spent his time reconstructing the ruined cottage he was born in. He had to prove that he was the rightful owner to the previously destroyed home but it was unnecessary as his birth certificate and results of a positive DNA test was given to the realtor – Hermione came to a conclusion that Headmistress McGonagall had done the privilege for Harry after she declined him the position as professor in Hogwarts and encouraged him to live a humble life. Some of the neighbors had learned about the return of the son of their lost companions and had welcomed Harry back to his birthplace also offering him a room in their home until the Potter cottage was repaired but Harry had politely refused.

Harry had stayed in the Burrow with the Weasley family in the meantime as he visited Godric's Hollow every day to continue with his construction. Arthur and George Weasley would accompany him to assist him or Ron would come along with his twin brother to help Harry quicken the pace of the repair. It had taken them over six months to build the cottage back into its natural glory even with magic; they had to be discreet whenever they cleaned away the debris without the suspicions of the watching neighbors or to lift the heavy equipment with a levitation spell. Harry rejected the idea of using his parent's money to rebuild simple parts of the cottage such at the splintered door, the shattered windows, the broken light bulbs, and the withered grass grounds – he could restore those with magic. The one thing he did normally was fixing the hinges of the front date with tools.

Hermione could not help him with the rehabilitation of the Potter cottage because she was studying in Hogwarts to finish her final year as well as Ginny. Nevertheless, they had visit him during their holiday break to help him remodel the inside to his taste and to conjure up the essentials he needed to use daily such as furniture, utensils, or cleaning material. Hermione felt awful to not being there from the beginning of the rebuilding but she was content to know that she had managed to finish the last touches for the home to be complete and also relieved that Ginny had helped along with the process because they both agreed that it would not have the cozy atmosphere without their feminine touch.

With a deep breath, Hermione undid the latch of the gate before she elbowed her way into the property and took quick strides to the front door. She brought a shaking fist to knock three times and then leaned against the brick archway, pulling her coat closer to engulf her in needed warmth as she felt her skin being crawled over with violent trembles. She never understood the weather in the small village especially in the night. No matter what season of the year it is, the night is always frigid as if it was winter but it was slightly chilly in the daytime with the sun blazing down its heat. She wondered how Harry or Ginny managed to live happily in an endless cool area.

She held back a breath of relief when she heard the multiple locks clacking behind the door and pushed herself off the archway as it flung open. There stood the man of the house, wearing slightly baggy sweatpants that hung a bit below his hips and a simple blue shirt with the Avengers logo designed across his torso. His hair was naturally tousled with some strands hovering over his forehead and hiding away his eyebrows, his face cleansed from all his stubble from earlier as he seemed to have recently shaved by how his skin was moist. He looked like a normal husband who just came home to his awaiting family from a hard day at work except for the particular object resting over his eyes. They were crooked and cracked around the corners.

"What happened to your glasses?" Hermione asked with a giggle as she stepped inside the main foyer and immediately slung her coat off her shoulders to welcome the consuming warmth of his home. She rubbed her arms greedily to smooth away the goose bumps as she turned to Harry to see him slowly close the door and redid the locks.

"Good evening to you too," he replied in a playfully sarcastic tone. His nose wrinkled in annoyance as he went to pull his glasses off and held it by the temple tip whilst he used his other hand to wipe the smudges of the lenses with the hem of his shirt.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. She went to the rack by the door to hang up her coat before she turned to him again. "I'm guessing Hugo was a bit of a handful?"

Harry shook his head. "Surprisingly, no. He was well-behaved – talked a lot but never went out of line. He was out like a light after we got ice cream."

"Really?" Hermione's eyebrows rose in astonishment. "That normally never happens. Then again it could have been from the emotional experience with Rose's departure and the sugar."

"Could be."

"And…uh…what about…?" She trailed off and pointed at his glasses.

"Oh, these," Harry laughed as he returned the glasses back on his face. "When the they woke up again, I took them out to play some Muggle games that kids do in their age. I didn't think Hide-and-Seek was capable of knocking me down."

Hermione felt a sensation tickling in the back of her throat that was forcing her lips to break apart and let out the bubbly giggle she is trying to stifle but she placed her hand over her mouth to prevent it.

However, Harry could see her amusement through her eyes. "It's not funny."

She inhaled deeply and shook her head. "I didn't say anything."

"Right." He rolled his eyes.

A small, tender smile spread out on her face as she stared at her long-term friend. She was not accustomed to see this freed and calm side of him after knowing him for twenty-six years. For the first seven years, she had saw him occupied with his duty destined to be done by a prophecy made exactly at his birth, always dreading for the year to be over because he needed to return to a home that did not welcome him with open arms like he deserved, or always being brought down by the media for being rash about his image as The-Boy-Who-Lived just to make more sales and the following seven years before his marriage with Ginny was official, he had struggled with post-traumatic stress caused by the war. He never had a moment to himself to relish in the fact that he was free from the death mark that had been hovering over his head for years because as soon as the war was declared finished, he immediately focused himself on other activities.

Harry was never a young boy. He was already man ahead of time before he knew it, before anybody knew. Hermione never saw him as a toddler. Her perspective in him changed the moment he ventured forward to face their former professor, Quirinus Quirell. She never met anyone at such a young to have a great amount of courage to fight through the fear she assumed he felt by going against someone with much more experience than him at the time. She was dazzled by his iconic figure as a tragic hero because right then she knew that he was more than just an immature child who is experiencing the world of a wizard for the first time – he was a prisoner of a life he could not escape. He was the key to peace and she knew that she may be the brightest witch of their age who uses books and cleverness to fill in the blanks but he was the answer to all.

Hermione let out a sigh. "Honestly."

Harry blink in puzzlement as he watched her reach inside the sleeve of her floral-pattern shirt to slip out her vine wood and dragon heartstring core possessed wand. His eyes widen slightly when she pointed it to his face, the tip a few centimeters far from his nose.

" _Oculus Reparo_ ," she recited. Soon, the cracks from the corners have mended together wholly, the lenses were clear from any smudges or dirt, and the temples were aligned straightly. She smiled proudly at the result and slipped her wand back in her sleeve. She watched him as he pulled his glasses off to admire her treatment on the small damages he had caused prior to playing with the kids before he placed them back over his eyes.

"I _seriously_ need to remember that," Harry grinned. "Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem."

"You know, Hugo and Lily are in the common room watching the telly and I was just finishing some reports. You haven't had a chance to eat some supper have you?"

"I _just_ got out of work, Harry."

"Would you like some?" he recommended cordially, gesturing a hand down the direction that lead to the dining room.

Hermione scrunched up her face and frowned remorsefully. "I would love some but I think Ron is expecting me by now. I stayed at work longer than I said I would."

"Oh," Harry dimmed. "I understand."

Hermione despised seeing him look so disappointed. She understood his invitation well; she had missed spending time with him too. Her and Ron's visits to Harry haven't been frequent as they were before due to their jobs seem to have seized their spare time by the horrendous close attempts to capturing a wanted Death Eaters that Harry is determined to do, the cases of the guilty along with the reports of the magical creatures being claimed custody over stacking up in Hermione's office, and the constant orders of rapacious customers visiting Ron's store in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade also increased in demands that they needed to double their supplies per month now. There was never a time in their schedules when they can arrange a date to themselves and when they did it was rare. They wordlessly agreed to spend the holidays together. How upsetting that is.

"Maybe," Hermione paused. Harry watched her expectantly. "Maybe…I could stay for supper. I am _starving_. I'll just owl Ron where I am."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she said. She stepped closer to him and reached one hand across to take his in a gentle grasp, lazily swinging them in the small gap between their bodies. "I'm not going to lie, I miss you, Harry. We hardly have time like we used to."

"Nice to know I'm not the only one feeling that way," Harry retorted. His eyes gazed at hers, green waters mixing with melted chocolate and being stirred by the sincerity delved inside the dark dots of his pupils. "I missed you too, 'Mione," he added.

A watery smile and a light squeeze to his knuckles was his response from her. He returned the gesture as a sign of relief of her stay and gratitude of leaving her presence in his quiet home before he turned his heel around then led her out of the main foyer.

Hermione had taken this time to sweep her eyes around the house before she disappeared into the kitchen. The reconstruction had drastically changed the atmosphere the cottage once held to where there is no sign of the tragic death of the Potter family; the entrance hall was grand and spacious with a glorious chandelier hanging highly in the ceiling and a staircase to the upper floor with a few ink markings painted at the few steps. Hermione figured that is where Ginny and Harry measured their children's height.

There is an entryway beside the staircase that leads to the family room, which has comfortable couches and single chairs that she and Ginny picked for decoration. An orange-pink glow illuminated within the room from the lit fireplace – which was her most favored spot to sit by during the blizzard of the winter season during Christmas and she would be snuggled up in a warm blanket with Ron or her children to bask in the heat – and a television set in the corner near the windows. Underneath the window sill was a table with multiple picture frame set on top and beneath were a series of novels tightly stacked together that Hermione had been tempted to read many times. She couldn't help it if Anne Rice was one of her favorite Muggle authors.

Leading from the entrance hall is a hallway with a guest bathroom on the first door in the right and the exit to the open backyard. There was a doorway on the left that was a second entry to the kitchen area. Her gaze shifted to the new area of the house – the dining room. It was simple yet elegant. There was a tiny chandelier above the rather large table that stretched across the room, a velvet red carpet softening the ground and transparent of specks of dusts. There was a wide portrait that included both families; the children were standing in front of their parents with Rose and James standing next to each other while their arms were draped over their younger siblings. Albus stood between them, his arms disappeared behind them. Harry and Ron stood by together, one arm protectively cradling their wives as they smiled. The nine of them were laughing and grinning, sometimes ruffling each other's hair or playfully nudging the other.

"So what did you make?" Hermione asked once they entered the kitchen. She slipped her hand from his grasp and crossed her arms over her stomach. She can feel it rumbling under her arms as it growled for satisfaction.

"Chicken Tikka with chips and steak and ale pie," Harry answered. He went to the stove where he had pans covered with aluminum foil over it and peeled it apart to present his dish, the aroma of the meal instantly spreading in the kitchen area. "I even made some Yorkshire pudding," he added as he bend down to pull the oven open and show the recently baked desert kept evenly warm within.

Hermione's mouth watered at the view and her stomach roared at the smell.

"You want some wine?" Harry suggested.

"What you got?"

"Nyetimber and Gusbourne."

"First one, please."

Harry reached inside the pocket of his sweatpants to pull out his wand and swished a flick towards the cabinets before he repeated towards the drawers by the counter. The doors opened then a plate floated towards the stove as well as wooden spoon and utensils levitated in the clear. As they began to scoop up the content onto the plate, Harry went to the icebox next to Hermione and ripped it open to pull the cool bottle of delicious wine from within the mountain of frozen ice. In the brief moment, Hermione could smell him when he stood beside her – clean, distinctive, natural – and felt his arm brush again her as he closed the icebox. He always smelled like home to her. He always stayed with the same scent of pine trees and musky grass, the same that was from the riverbank of the lake they used to sit by between lessons – he makes her feel like she never lost her connections to Hogwarts.

She used her own wand to summon two stemless glasses from the other cabinet set and held them gingerly in her hands as he uncorked the bottle by hand. The tip of the bottle clanked with the rim as he poured the bubbly white substance into the stainless, clear glasses.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"You're welcome," he said as he returned to the icebox and stuff the bottle into the piled ice inside before he slammed it shut. He came to Hermione's side and accepted the glass she held out to him.

The plate full of the addictive scent of a home cooked meal glide between them with the utensils following closely behind, the whiff of sauced chicken and baked chips attacking Hermione's nostrils as they drifted by. She could help herself from trailing after the food as the smell drawn her into the dining room, licking her lips almost as if she could already taste the tempting meal in front of her. The plate clinked lightly as it laid on the placemats at the dining table and the utensils copied, silently inviting her for the feast. She sat at the table without hesitation.

"How is everything at work?" Harry asked as he slumped in the chair beside hers at the head of the table and placed the glass of wine down.

Hermione took a sip of her wine, her lip-gloss painting around the rim. She unrolled the tied napkin to place it on her lap then pick up the fork and carefully smeared a piece of chicken with marinara sauce.

"It's been stressful," she grumbled before she shoved the chicken in her mouth and had to bite her tongue to stop her from moaning in appreciation at the taste of perfectly grilled meat, chewing the flavor down her throat. The chicken was delectable, mostly heavenly. She swallowed and took another sip of her wine.

"Is it about the case you told me about?"

"The case," she trailed off with a sigh. "That's the last thing I want to talk about."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "How come?"

Hermione kept her mouth closed as she gritted her teeth, her gaze on her wine. The liquid was deep red below while the top was faint purple by the dim light of the chandelier above and her lip gloss was smudged by the rim in a curved arch. She took her glass and took a long sip before she placed it back down.

"Rowle might be proven innocent," she mumbled.

Harry's eyes widen in shock. "What?"

"He gave them a pathetic story of him being in the influence of the Imperius Curse and they miraculously bought it," she explained. "Even with the witnesses who saw him attack his victims but because of his story, they are useless."

"Are you serious? You have witnesses for Merlin's sake!"

"Completely. Our witnesses can't top his background. They were there for the attacks but not for when he got caught in the curse. And he's has alibies, Harry, _alibies_. If he brings them and their story goes along with his then the case is already over."

"No," Harry shook his head in disbelief. "That bloke attack us! He's should be sent to Azkaban! I didn't risk the lives of my officers just for them to let him go scott free!"

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual," Hermione said before she took another sip of her wine, the glass half empty.

"There must be something you can do, Hermione," Harry spoke optimistically. "You always find a way."

Hermione licked her lips to wipe away the wine from her lips and crossed her arms over her mid-section as she bit her lower lip. She slung one leg over the other, the napkin crinkling between her thighs as she did, and then she puffed out a small breath.

"Well, one of my assistants helped me find a loophole in Rowle's statement," she answered after a minute later. She peered over at Harry to see he had leaned forward, his hands clenched in anxious fists and his jaw clenched tightly while his eyes were staring at her intently, hopefully. "He said he was in Diagon Alley but he never said what time of day it all supposedly happened. If I can find out when it happened then I can go and interrogate some of the shop owners who are always opened at that time. I _know_ for a fact that there is never a moment in that place when someone isn't awake."

"That's brilliant," Harry grinned brightly. "Just let me know when you're going and I'll send someone to escort you."

"That's not necessary, Harry," Hermione said.

"Yes it is," he spoke strongly. "There are still Death Eaters out there and they could come at any moment when you least expect it."

"I highly doubt they would show up in the busiest market places in the world. There are flyers all over with their faces on it so why would they even bother?" She uncrossed her arms and took her napkin from her lap.

"Better safe than sorry."

"Point taken."

Harry smiled softly at her reluctance but spoke no further.

"Actually, Harry, I was hoping if maybe you could do me a favor?" Hermione insisted meekly, her hand twisting the napkin.

"What is it?"

"Gerald can't arrange me interrogation with the suspect unless it is allowed by an auror," she said. "Since he was arrested by you, I was hoping if maybe you could send them a letter of approval."

"I'll do it tonight."

Hermione blinked. "That fast?"

"I see no reason to be surprise," Harry shrugged with a quick chuckle. "I want him behind cells as much as you do."

"Oh, uh…well…aha," Hermione stammered with a sheepish giggle as she tried to gather her bearings. "I just figured with you being so busy with your own cases, I thought that be too much to ask for."

"Not at all." Harry shook his head.

She reached across to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his sideburn as she nuzzled her lips in his shoulder. "Thank you, Harry," she muttered into the fabric, tightening her grip on him to emphasize her appreciation.

Hesitantly, Harry placed his hands on her waist and rested his chin on her somewhat hunched shoulder, his fingers twitching gently as he held her. He was never acquainted to physical affections until Hermione came to his life since she was the first girl to let him feel the glow of an embrace, the kindness of kisses on his cheek, and the compassionate squeeze of a hand. He had grown used to feeling security in a woman's hold from Hermione until his interests in Ginny piqued later on yet the sense of care and assurance still came from Hermione because she was his first. He hadn't gotten any of her touches for a while because of his jobs so for her to suddenly force them on him like now left him baffled.

Hermione let go of him to return to her meal – it had gotten a bit cold during their conversation but the taste was just as appetizing. She chopped a piece of the chicken with her fork before she put it in her mouth then following several pieces of chips, enjoying the sweet seasoning of paprika mixed with pepper and the saltiness dissolving into one on her tongue before she swallowed. She always loved Harry's cooking; he was an expert by now after growing up to fend for himself. His combinations were never too much or too little, he somehow managed to add the right amount for each dish and leave her desiring for a second serving.

"How are things with you?" she asked. "Still no change?"

"Actually, I just got a report about a Snatcher," Harry replied enthusiastically. "A second in command. His name is David Ducio. He was spotted hibernating in the Black Forest by the Rhine Valley."

"Black Forest," she murmured. "That's in Germany. But why would he go there?"

"I don't know," he said. "I just know I need to send some of my officers there as soon as possible before he decides to move. He's the first criminal we've caught in months and since he was part of a group associated with the Death Eaters, maybe I can get him to tell me about Yaxley's whereabouts if he knows them."

"Don't put all your hopes on one person, Harry. Or you'll be left in disappointed when you end up with nothing."

"I won't."

"Good."

Harry sighed.

"What's wrong?" Hermione questioned.

"Nothing, I just…" he paused for a moment before he shook his head. "My mind is so wrapped around the hunts, it's starting to become a migraine. I had to take a Calming Draught to ease it."

Hermione frowned at this. The carefree man she had spoken to earlier had disappeared and faded into a tense person with no signs of relaxation. She wondered when was the last time she had saw Harry act free; she could hardly remember how beautifully content he seemed during the celebration of the end of the Second Wizarding War. It was a glorious sight to see her best friend smile broadly, so alight in cheerfulness and sparkling in recklessness as he shared the night away with his companions. She was shocked to see that side of Harry – she never knew it existed – but she loved it because she knew that he deserved to be a child for once in his life. Unfortunately, he does not let himself break away from his desires to chase his enemies into the holding cells of Azkaban waiting for them.

She sat up a little straighter. "You really shouldn't work yourself too hard. If it's to the point you need a potion to feel better then maybe you should take a couple days off. Go away on vacation with Ginny and Lily."

"This is coming from a workaholic," he teased.

She smirked. "Takes one to know one. At least I'm in control."

"With coffee?" He raised an eyebrow.

She startled, her knees banging the edge below the table and nearly tipping over her wine.

"Why act so surprised? It's not like you've discreet about it," he laughed. "Every time I pass by the break room, I always see a certain witch brewing up a batch. I think you're becoming an addict."

She snorted. "You're not the first to tell me that."

"Well, considering the many times you spend there than your office, I wouldn't be surprise if the whole Ministry thought the same."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave his shoulder a playful push with a gentle giggle. "You've become such a wanker, Harry Potter."

"And you're the last person I least expected to become such an addict, Hermione Weasley."

"Prat."

"Coffee maniac."

Their gentle laughter vibrated out of the back of their throats and reverberated off the walls in the dining room, the light-hearted togetherness of their lightening up the pressured atmosphere brought in by the turmoil of their careers. It was incredible for them that after all the hardships and traumatic experiences they had fought through for the past years that they could still share a moment of artlessness and naturalness when they come together again. The war had affected them greatly to mature rapidly than they should and hardly ever tried to enjoy their youth when they could but it was never truly lost. Their naiveté would sometimes surface but it is if half of their group came together in a cosmic collision.

Sucking in a deep breath, Hermione grinned. "I missed this, Harry. Being able to just sit back and laugh. Now everything is just work and stress."

Harry nodded in agreement. "That's when you know you're in reality."

Hermione released a breath that seemed to have deflated the obvious tension in her muscles. Harry watched her cautiously, his eye scrutinizing her movements as she reached for her glass again and tilted her head back to finish the remains of the deep red beverage. She did not seem herself. She was dressed in her usual style and her hair was curled into a knot like she always has for work shifts yet she did not seem like the Hermione he grew up with. She was there in front of him but she felt far away from where she sat. He could not understand if it was by how the aura around her was rather drained and bleak or if it was the weary eyes that replaced the shine she always held. She just appeared so…old.

"We should just get away from here, Harry," she suddenly said, the empty wine-stained glass left back on the table, and her voice seem distant as she spoke with it, "Grow old."

Harry did not reply. He was stunned into a shocked silence by her suggestion. It showed in the growth of his eyes and the parting of his lips. He was confounded by her words but then his face calmed from all surprise once he noticed the mischievous twitch in her lips. He smiled at this; she had said the same words in-between the lines when they had settled a campsite in the Forest of Dean nineteen years ago as a finale resort from escaping his faith. He never knew if she meant it or if it was just an attempt to lighten up the mood of the moment.

"I think we're ahead of the 'grow old' bit, don't you think?" he laughed heartily and dropped a hand on her bent knee, his thumb rubbing in the curve of the bone.

"Don't remind me," she groaned distastefully. She brought one hand to rest upon his, her fingertips tickling the tiny hairs that were barely noticeable with his skin.

He studied her again, his lips curled in curiosity. "Hermione…what's wrong?"

Her eye snapped up to him, her brows knitted together. "What? Nothing's wrong with me. Why would you ask me that?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "You just seem…impassive."

She giggled. "Impassive, Harry?"

"I don't know how to explain it," he said. "But you just seem so out of it. Is there something on your mind?" He honestly could not stop looking at her. He hoped that he was wrong about his intuition on her but he doubted he was. He has known Hermione for so long and whenever he had that tight sensation cripple up in his gut, he knew that there was something out of her element.

Hermione swallowed hard. "Nothing gets past you."

"Not unless I'm looking really hard," he chuckled.

She smiled weakly and shook her head as she sighed deeply through her nose, her lips pursed tightly. She nudged forward to take his hand from knee and held it gently as she ran her thumb over his rough knuckles, noticing the small ceases formed by the bend and the marking of his tendons hidden beneath the skin.

"This is going to sound really odd of me," she mumbled so softly, so inaudible that Harry needed to leaned closer to her to be able to hear her voice. "But I miss being on the run."

Harry blinked. That was odd.

"Not the being chased or near-death experience part, but mostly the thrill that came from it," Hermione corrected herself quickly. "I miss feeling the adrenaline and always being kept on my toes. Staying vigilant at all times. Maybe even the excitement of being in a battle has to do with it, too. But lately," she paused to take a brief minute of hesitation before she continued, "I've felt like my life has been a routine of endless documents and court cases. I've done everything so fast at such a young age that everything is predictable now and that's rather boring. And with Rose gone…," she shook her head. "There's hardly going to be an adventure in the house now."

Harry's heart thudded painfully for her. He could not say he understood her emotions because nearly every day he is on the hunt for a new suspect for arrest and he would go to long trips to chase down a convict. He has timeless battles, frequent adrenaline from investigations, constant excitement from encounters, and at the end of the night he would be asleep with thrill tingling on his skin in balmy bumps. His life outside his home was unpredictable – he never knows if he would return from his mission injured or alive – and that is what kept his home life alive because he had stories to tell, memories to be shared.

But Hermione just had debates and meetings, nothing as tempting as an open field physical capacity. She might have even forgotten how it felt being targeted by the terrible or how it shook someone to the bone to be confronting death in the face and being able to fight through to walk away alive. She probably does not even remember what it felt to force broken bones to continue walking through the soring pain or to have to come with awful alternatives to cure an open wound that came with a searing burn. He knew that she did not because she had just described her life in one word; _boring_.

She missed that part of her life because she never felt like she was being dragged for nothing, but for a purpose. All her achievements have been done by her so quickly that she did not get to evolve with the process of her iconic growth, of her own legend being made, and she could not absorb in the pride of it. She was just left with the aftermath of the elation.

Harry did not know how it felt to be living in a plain manner but he knew that he can reassure her that she was not alone. He showed her by bending his head down to their joined hands and softly caressed his lips over the back of her hand, peppering it with feather kisses in each inch of pores until he touched the bone of her knuckles. He planted one final kiss their before he raised his head to meet the appreciation and respect glistening off the depth of her brown eyes and a tearful smile broken on her weak lips.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered and he knew he had gotten through her.

From a short distance, an echoing chime broke into the silence of the house. The magic of their restful bubble was destroyed by the continuous sound.

"What time is it?" she asked

"Probably eleven now," he answered on the spot.

Hermione rose from her chair, slipping her hands from his grasp and his falling from her straighten knee. "I should get going. Ron must be worried by now."

Harry copied her actions and then the two of them walked out of the dining room, the unfinished dinner forgotten on the table. They did not speak but the language of their bodies confirmed they are saddened that their time together had come to an abrupt end and pleased to have shared the evening together. They skipped the foyer to the living room, where they spotted their children spreading across the floor in front of the television set with quilts splayed over their legs and their arms clutching onto the cushions as they slept through an episode of Phineas and Ferb.

"How many sweets did you give them?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

Harry grinned. "About enough."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him with a small smirk. "You're horrible," she told him before she quietly approached her unconscious son and began to carefully maneuver his body to be able to cradle him in her arms, the quilt slipping into the carpet as she lifted him. His arms unconsciously slide around her neck and his head leaned into her shoulder as if it was the cushion he used as a pillow. She looked over at Harry to see him carry Lily in one arm and the quilts were wandlessly folded as well at the cushions were plush back on the sofa.

She smiled at him, the force more meaningful. "Have a good night, Harry. And thank you for the food and…everything."

Harry raised one hand to cup the curve of her neck, his thumb smooth over the plump of her cheek, and leaned down to press his lips against her forehead, planting a warm kiss there as a mark of amenity for her. Hermione fluttered her eyes closed at his touch, the simple gesture making the tension melt away from her muscles and she almost dropped in contentment as she sighed. The kiss ended but Harry never pulled away; he molded his forehead with hers as his eyes closed.

"Anytime, 'Mione," he grumbled. He could smell the wine in her breath and on her lips. "I'll have the letter sent in by morning."

She nodded and pulled her head back, opening her eyes in time to see his were clear as well. His hand slipped away from her neck.

"You'll win this," he said firmly, his eye glittering by the light of the television and of pride he only has reserved for her, the same pride she had lacked in herself. "You're married to Ron but you'll always be known as Hermione Jean Granger, the brightest witch of our age. _Your_ name is on what you achieved. Not Hermione Weasley, the housewife or mother. They should be scared of you, really. Ron and I were if we never did our homework or studied."

She laughed quietly then smiled once more. "Thank you, Harry."

He dismissed her recognition with a shook of his head. He felt her hand on his elbow and a squeeze by her fingers before she let go. He stood there, watching her walk out towards the foyer while carefully holding Hugo as he slept peacefully on her shoulder, and he figured she went to retrieve her coat from the rack. He waited in the living room, thinking that she would return for one last farewell for the night, but then he were a familiar _pop_ echo from the silence of the foyer and he was left disappointed. His time with her was over, the reality of their lives have come back to take over the small douse of his past, and he does not know when he will have another shot of it again.

But then, the locks of the door snapped open and the door was heard being swung open. Harry stepped towards the entrance hall out of curiosity, one hand hovering over his wand in his pocket, and his hold on Lily tightens a bit as he peered into the hall. His movements decreased once he saw the familiar red blob of hair of his wife.

"It's freezing outside," she was muttering under her breath as she removed her leather jacket from her shoulders and turned to hang it up on the rack where Hermione's coat had previously occupied. She reached behind her head to pull off the rubber from her hair and ran her fingers through her tresses, releasing the tightness from her scalp.

"I could warm you up," Harry said teasingly in a low tone to not waken his daughter. He held back a laugh when she started at his voice.

"Hey darling," she breathed. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"Had a few reports to finish," he replied as he walked towards her. He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss on her lips before he softly hiked Lily up on his shoulder, feeling her slip slightly from his hands. "Supper is on the stove and dessert is in the oven."

"Thank Merlin," she mumbled with a sigh of relief. "I'm _starving_."

Harry chuckled at her exasperation. "I'll join you soon. Just need to tuck Lily in."

Ginny nodded in understanding, her eyes gazing at her youngest child with such fondness to see the peacefulness and solace matted across Lily's face as she slumbered on. She stretched up to plant a sweet kiss on Lily's cheek before she repeated one on Harry's cheek and slumped back down to her current height.

"As for your offer," she grinned coyly. "I might take it under consideration afterwards."

She turned and headed towards the kitchen.

Harry sighed and began to make his way up the staircase. He was happy to have his wife home but he already missed Hermione. And he missed Ron, too. Ginny was always seen around but not his best friends.

He just wishes he can feel the same sense of familiarity and thrill like he did with Hermione. He could not help but wonder he maybe he made her feel what she desired, too.

* * *

 **A:N:** I chose to include Rowling's statement of her interview about Hermione Granger because it actually explained with how she is in this chapter. Hermione never changed who she is to accomplish her achievements in life because it's who she is that she managed to do them but there are still people who don't approve of her and want her to change her ways to their liking and yet she's struggling to make the wizarding world better as the person she was born as.

As Rowling says "she doesn't play that game" and Hermione is my favorite character because of that. She does it in her own terms whether people like it or not.

 **Please Review!**


	4. Scarred and Questions

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters or locations used in it, or the songs mentioned. But I do own this plot.

 **A:N:**

I know some of you are rather confused about the plot but trust me when I say that it is going to come very soon. You are still in the rising action of the story. Give like two more chapters and you will be in the climax of what the true conflict is. Or maybe a hint on what the conflict is. But just like every story, you must read on to understand it. I promise you that you're not wasting your breath reading this story, I've had this plot in my head since I read the first Harry Potter book. Just please be a little more patient, ok.

Also, you need to remember this story takes place after the epilogue so there will be Hermione/Ron and Harry/Ginny moments for now but it will gradually change in the future. Just a little heads up there.

Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

 _Crimson and bare as I stand_

 _Yours completely_

 _Yours as we go over_

 _Sing for the lion and lamb_

 _Their hearts are hunting_

 _Still hunts hope ever and ever_

 _Ever_

Cold; Aqualung ft. Lucy Schwartz

* * *

 _"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don't always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."_

\- Vincent and the Doctor

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Scarred and Questions**

The morning followed quickly than Hermione anticipated.

She had gotten home later than she expected that she would. As soon as she walked through the front door, she was ambushed by a worried Ron and a freshly wakened Hugo. She had to explain to Ron that she had accidentally wandered in her job later than she promised she would because of the piles of reports that came in and that she had went to pick up Hugo from Harry. She had passed his offer for dinner because she had already eaten at Harry's, hardly, but enough to not feel so famished for the night, and she was fatigued after a long stressful day. Ron was kind enough to suggest he'd tuck in Hugo, knowing that his methods would make him fall asleep quickly, and Hermione was more than gracious by that so that she could be able to hibernate away the remaining hours.

Unfortunately, Ron had gotten other plans for her after Hugo was asleep.

Hermione woke up rather sore and battered, forcefully by the incessant beeping of the alarm clock blasting beside her, and groaned inwardly as she reached over to press the snooze button. She stretched out her limbs, feelings her joint pop again like the night before, and then the comforter rustling around with her as she rolled onto her side. She squinted her eyes to look through the rising sunlight peering into her bedroom to see the motionless face of her husband, the back of her skull resting on his bicep. She was rather peeved that he had seduced her into bed knowing that she needed to wake up early for her shift and to take Hugo to school but seeing him sleep calmly as he is now, she decided it was worth it.

The warmth of his arms locked around her securely is something she would never get tired of. It is the only time in her life that makes her remember that the war is over; they are safe. The rumbles beneath his chest as he breathed evenly and the thumping sensation of his heart beating into her ear were a lullaby to her, an unknown song by him that she would forever listen to until her last breath. Then with his slightly parted lips laying gently on her forehead, his breath brushing over her hair so lazily was promising enough that this was all real. She wishes that she could lay here eternally away from the outside of her home and live as preciously as she slept in bed.

She thought back at her night with Harry; it was the first time in a while since she spent time with him. She had forgotten how simple it was to be with him and forget about her stresses with an easy conversation or laughter. She especially remembered the way he talked about her. It was completely unexpected of him to suddenly praise her yet it was uplifting to hear such positivity of her from him because lately she had felt like she has been doing everything wrong. She had made changes in the world that had helped many kinds of wizards or witches with their lives, specifically the magical creatures, but with the unfortunate reactions of the pure-bloods for her getting the Ministry to agree to lift pro-blood laws and with her blood status, she has been given such a cold air in her job. Being with Harry made her forget that as he is an employee of the government as well and he was able to have her concealed from the troubles that came with it.

Both Harry and Ron were her lifeline. Ron was her promise of life after war and Harry was her breach from reality after war. Ron was her picture of perfect present with a family and Harry was her bridge to utopia away from the struggles to provide their needs. She needs them now than they needed her before and she was content with that.

Wistfully, she must leave the bed now. She pushed herself up onto one elbow, her bushy curls drifting over her shoulder as she did and glanced at the alarm clock to see that it was already a minute past six. She did not clock in for work until seven-twenty and Hugo does not go in for school until seven-fifteen but she did not need to worry about him coming in late because it is Ron who usually drives him to lessons since he goes in at nine.

She felt Ron's fingers dig deeper into her waist and she glanced back at him to see his eyes tightened in disappointment. His hand, which had slipped downwards from her movement, came back up to her ribs and pressure was applied onto her side, trying to force her back down. She resisted his attempts, though it was difficult. She wanted nothing more than to just lie in the nest of his body heat as a curled fetus and never leave, but she knew how the Ministry is not tolerable with tardiness no matter the reason.

"I need to get going, honey," she whispered. A whine and another tug on her side was all she received. She could feel her will fading by the small pout and the frown between his scrunched brows but his eyes never opened – he was being childishly adorable.

"Stay," he muttered.

"I'm going to be late," she fought back although her voice was not firm like her words.

Ron's lips quirked up, smug. He knew he could keep her with him if he tempted her right.

But then the Rowle case flashed inside Hermione's mind. She regained herself against his touch as addictive as it was. She did not want to be caught by Kingsley in the corridors just hours or minutes after her normal clock in with her hair a tangled whirlwind and no explanation as to why she was late.

"Stay a little longer," he protested as he rolled to his side and buried his face into her arm while his other arm slung over her, the heavy weight nearly pulling her down with him.

Hermione smiled fondly at him even though he couldn't see it and used her free hand to tenderly comb her fingers through his untamed hair, smoothing down a few strands. "You know I'd love to stay but I can't." She lowered her head to press a lingering kiss on the exposed spot of the back of his bare shoulder before she ran her hand over the vertebrae of his spine. She smirked at the scattering shivers left behind by her touch and the light moan he muffled into her arm.

"You're going to stay longer if you keep doing that," he grumbled. She was taken off guard by his crude comment that she could prevent herself from bursting out in laughter and laid her head down on his back, her hair caressing between his shoulder blades as they fell over them, her lips lightly pressed to his skin.

"We spent all night rolling around in bed," she giggled. "And you want to go at it again?"

"Yes."

And then he unexpectedly pulled her down to the mattress, her hair flung over their pillows as she was swallowed in blankets and plush. Hermione felt the soft texture tickling her bare back. She gasped for breath, disconcerted by Ron's sudden actions, as she watched him sling one leg over her to straddle her by the waist and the muscles of his arms flex whilst he pinned her hands next to her head by her wrists. He smirked at the sight of her annoyed expression, noting every detail; her narrowed eyes, the crease formed between her brows as she furrowed them, her clenched jaw, and her gritted teeth. His eyes glided down from her face to her body, appraising how the outline of her figure is perfectly brought out by the silky fabric of her nightgown, loving the fact that the hem had ridden up during her struggle.

"Are you really in the mood to be such a child, Ronald?" she muttered under her breath.

Ron shook his head. "No." He bent his arms to bring his face closer to her until his nose rubbed against hers, his lips a few centimeters closer to hers. "I just want to appreciate what I have," he whispered huskily, his lips trailing on hers as he spoke.

Hermione surpassed a gasp. "I see. And couldn't it wait until after Hugo goes to school?"

"No. By the time he's gone so are you."

"Very true."

Ron bit his lips at the sudden change in her voice; the sultry, sensual tone suddenly leaking out of her words. And when he looked into her eyes, they were smoldered by a faded sin, the view leaving him breathless and the grip he has on her hands almost loosen by the sound but he managed to remain firm. He brought his head down to have their lips touching but he didn't apply pressure. He felt her hands shake in anticipation and he knew her walls were beginning to tumble down.

"Unfortunately," she began to speak and he was too focused on her fogged eyes that he nearly jumped when he felt the tip of her slippery tongue rub against his lower lip, the scorching heat coming from making him tremble above her. "I'm not exactly in the mood."

Ron held back a groan. "What can I do to apologize?"

Hermione sunk her head deeper into the pillow, forcing the contact between their faces to decrease to Ron's dismay, and then she formed a sinister smirk to creep on her face. "I can think of a few things," she murmured.

Then, Ron inhaled sharply as his vision blurred for a second and it got clear enough for him to see his wife straddling above him with her hands pressing his into the mattress, her hair leaning over his face like a curtain away from the gray light illuminating from outside the window, along with the same smirk carved on her face as she giggled in a cute manner that he could not resist.

"Now who's being childish?" he asked playfully with a raised brow. She giggled again. "I thought you're going-" His words were quickly drowned by urging kisses that were demanding enough to bruise his lips but he did not complain because he enjoyed the roughness that comes from Hermione whenever she suddenly becomes aroused.

As he returned those kisses down into small bites on her collarbone and breasts, he brought his tongue out to leave behind a trail of burning marks on her soft skin. These are the many pleasures he gets when it comes to having a woman like Hermione because she does not need to try to awaken the savage man hidden within him that she craves hungrily. It was natural for her to be wanting when being sensual with him and to this day, he is still surprise that someone as gentle and fragile such as Hermione can be rough and wild in the bedroom. She is still the same woman he's fallen in love with back in Hogwarts but the unexpected moments when her secret demon comes out to play still leaves him frozen in delight.

And only Ron was allowed to see it. Not Draco, Not Cormac, Not Viktor, Not Neville, Not Harry – nobody but him, _her_ husband.

She has him shaking now; her hands caresses his torso down to his abdomen, her nails scratching over the tight skin she produced under her touches, and his feet tangled with hers curled their toes into the side of her legs as she tortures him unbelievably in wondrous ways that she knows about him, whispering promises of guaranteed beautiful sins she has imagined being done to him.

However, as soon as Hermione's fingers trailed on the elastic of Ron's lounge pants, popping them slightly on his hips, a tapping sound broke into the room, and Hermione immediately sprung away from Ron, making him let out an irritated groan. He tilted his head back as he laid an arm over his eyes, his hand clutched in a tight fist.

"What is it now?" he demanded.

Hermione walked towards the window, pulling down her nightgown. She peered out the glass to see a purely white snowy owl patiently perched on the sill with a rolled parchment tied to the leg and its large piercing yellow eyes expectantly staring at her. Its black beak opened whenever it let out a small squeak. Hermione unlocked the latch of the window and pushed it upwards, letting the owl to leap in inside the room then flutter over to the edge of the dresser nearby. She nearly laughed because she usually kept treats in the small drawer the owl is waiting upon.

"Hello Hedwig," she greeted as she approached the owl. "I'm assuming that's for me?"

The sparkling white owl just squeaked in response.

During the war, Harry had lost the first closest companion he had gotten before he met Ron or Hermione named Hedwig. She was a beautiful snowy white owl with big amber-yellow eyes and a small black beak, as similar as the one owl standing in front of Hermione right now. Hagrid had gotten her as a birthday present for Harry's eleventh birthday and she had grew up with Harry throughout his years in Hogwarts, sometimes falling out with him but always staying close to him nonetheless. Sadly, Hedwig had been murdered during the beginning of the war in an attempt to protect Harry and Hagrid from the Killing Curse appointed for them. She had never gotten a proper burial due to Harry needed to destroy the sidecar with Hedwig's body still inside.

Harry never got over the death of his precious pet – she was basically the small piece of family care he had never gotten when he was younger. It had taken Hermione and Ron nearly weeks to comfort him back into health at his loss but they knew they could not fill in that small void in his heart because they also were distraught by the sudden death of the friendly owl. She was the symbol of their lives despite their own pets; she was sacred and courageous just like their friendship. She could never be forgotten as long as they are alive then she still lives on within them. Her death was not in vain and they are proof of it.

Amazingly, a month after the war, Harry had discovered that Hedwig was pregnant at some time prior. When he went to clean out her cage, he found a lone egg being hatched within it and inside the egg was a healthy featherless bird completely exposed to the world. Hermione remembered seeing it the first time; she was there with Harry and Ginny to help him move his belongings to the Burrow. It was tiny with only a few feathers, the beak was fragile without the hardness of its shell, the skin was pale pink and felt soft when she had touched it with the tip of her finger, and it would make unbelievable loud yet charming chirps calling for its mother. They learned it was a girl sometime after its growth and Harry was overwhelmed at how identical she looked like Hedwig so he chose to name her after her mother, Hedwig ll.

That was when he knew that he never really lost his friend – she had left a part of her behind for him in case she did not survive.

Hermione carefully untied the ribbon from Hedwig's leg and unrolled the parchment. She stifled a gasp when she read the familiar scrawl of her best friend written on the sheet.

 _The Auror Department would like to grant permission to fellow counselor of the Wizengamot and member of the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures Department, Hermione Jean Granger, to hold interrogation of current suspect/prisoner, Thorfinn Rowle. All material involved in interrogation is to not be monitored by anyone other than the person it is requested by and the officer present as escort. If information of interrogation is to be mentioned outside of session or given to another, an inspection will be given with a search warrant and a 30-day arrest will be ordered if evidence found._

 _Signed,_

 _Harry J. Potter_

 _Chief of the Auror Department_

 _Ministry of Magic_

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice breathless in awe. She knew that he had promised a letter of approval from his part but a piece of her honestly thought that he would have been too busy to be able to write one and she understood if he didn't due to him being an enforcer of the law. Still, she was holding his promise in her hands and because of him, she was able to move forward with her case with possible answers to the truth.

Hedwig ll chirped impatiently, flapping her wings wildly to gain Hermione's attention, and her amber eyes pointedly staring at her.

"Alright, alright," Hermione chuckled. She placed the letter on the dresser next to Hedwig before she pulled open the drawer beneath the bird and rummaged through the small envelopes, tiny boxes filled with coins, and miniature sizes of family pictures until she found the beanie bag below the materials. She had casted the Undetectable Extension Charm just to hold the owl treats she'd buy for any post owls she'd receive.

Hermione reached a hand inside and pulled out an owl treat, which Hedwig had greedily snatched from her fingers, almost nipping her. Then she scratched a finger between Hedwig's feather, the young owl chirping happily at the gesture as she jerked her head towards Hermione's finger affectionately.

"You're a lot like your mother," Hermione said kindly at the owl. She got another cheerful chirp instead. "Alright, you need to get going now. Give Harry a nip for me, okay."

Hedwig's head twitched before she flapped her wings and then flew out of the window. Hermione returned to the bed where Ron was beginning to doze off until she hopped onto him, causing him to grunt and her to giggle as she straddled his by the waist once again.

"What was that about?" he asked instantly with his eyes closed as he lazily placed his hands on her thighs, rubbing his fingers over the supple skin.

"A letter from Harry," she responded casually.

"About?"

"Just a promise he made for me. Nothing big."

Ron hummed. He lifted his hands up to rub over his face, wipe away the grogginess from his eyes, before he settled them back on her thigh and sat up, shimming back to lean his back against the headboard. His hair was chaotic; the locks were disarrayed over his forehead and puffed out comically. His nose was red dotted and his cheeks were peached from sleep. His lips were swollen and bruised from her demanding kisses but they were curled in a smile more profound than the color.

"A promise for what?" he wondered.

Hermione took his hands from her thighs and laced their fingers together, carelessly swinging them to the sides. "I needed an approval letter from him to interrogate a suspect and he said he'd send me one by today. I just got it."

"Why you need to interrogate Rowle?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had him."

Hermione groaned inwardly. "I don't want to explain it right now," she said. "For now, I just want to…" she trailed off as she leaned forth to caress her inflamed lips with his battered ones in a gentle kiss, their fleshes molding together perfectly in contact. Then she leaned back a bit, their noses rubbing against each other and their lips brushing over the other as their breaths mingled bashfully. "I just want to finish what we started earlier."

Awaken fully by this, Ron smirked at her. "I couldn't agree more. But aren't you worried that Hugo-"

Hermione quietly hushed him by pressing a finger to his lips, grinning at him seductively through the glimmer that twinkling in her eyes, before she lunged forward to advance on her ministrations on him as she slides her hands up to tangle her fingers with his uncontrolled hair, gripping on them by their roots to pull him close to her.

Ron moaned in delight by her roughness and shifted his weight to be able to roll them around until he was hovering over her, his body settled between her legs with their pelvises connected intimately, as he marveled the lines of her curves downwards. He reached one hand behind him to blindly grip on edge of the comforter and then flung it over them, concealing them into a ball where they can enjoy pure bliss and ecstasy.

* * *

Harry did not want to leave his bed that morning. He was not tired but he did not feel productive either. He just wanted to be wrapped in the heat of the duvet and buried his head in the softness of his pillows while falling away into a rumbling snore. He hadn't slept for over half the night. He did not go to sleep until three in the morning because he had busied himself as soon as he tucked in Lily and ate dinner with Ginny. She had fell unconscious once she felt the bed and he was left to wandering the remaining night alone in his study with piles of reports along with finishing his approval letter for Hermione. When he went to bed, he had a good three hours of sleep before he woke up to send Hedwig to Hermione to give her his letter like he promised.

For some unfathomable reason, every little sound that bumped in the night would make him think that it was someone knocking on the front door. It caused him to constantly get up from bed and walk downstairs to stare out the little peephole only to find an empty doorstep. He blamed his instincts for making him paranoid.

At first, Harry wondered what motivated him to snap his eyes so early aside from sending Hermione the letter or what would have his brain to restart again, he just knew that he could hear the soft pattering of feet walking across the floor and light muttering. Ginny was awake. He rolled to his side and reached over to his nightstand for his clock, tilting it down slightly to see through the blurred vision of his eyes that the time read six-twenty-one in the morning. Too early for him to be up. He does not go in until seven. He let go of the clock and moved back into his stomach, his face hidden in the plush of his pillows.

The mattress sunk low beside him and a hand was shaking him behind his shoulder.

"Time to wake up, sweetheart," Ginny said.

Harry just groaned.

"Come on, you need to take Lily to school today," she reminded. "I need to go finish an article and go to for an interview with the Canons."

Harry rolled onto his back with a grunt, his arms splayed wide across the bed. "That's your fourth interview this month," he muttered.

"It's a busy season," she answered bluntly. She gave his stomach a quick pat before she rose up from the bed. "Chivvy along or Lily will be late and so will you."

Harry blindly stretched his hand out to her to capture her by her elbow and tugged her down, forcing her to sat back on the bed again. She looked classic in her attire for the day; a navy blue east coast coworker dress with a removable thin belt around her curves, a silver necklace with a teardrop pendant, a pair of matching stud earrings, and a geometria ring on her right hand while her wedding band was surrounding her left ring finger where it rightfully should. The black pumps she wore gave her legs a definite glow.

She was an outstanding woman. A beautiful human being. And he is a lucky man to be the one to marry her.

"Harry, I don't have time for this," she sighed. "I really need to get going."

Wordlessly, Harry sat up and raised his face to hers, sliding his nose along her jawline as he came up to the lobe of her ear. His breath was quivering though it still tickled Ginny, causing her to squirm under the sensation, and then he angled his head up to her ear, lightly nibbling the shell as he wrapped a hand around her stomach. She was frozen in place by the contact of his affections.

He slowly managed to lower her onto him, her elbow digging into his rib and the other holding her up by his head, as he trailed his nibbling teeth down to the side of her throat, his hand gliding up from her side to the middle of her back to press her closer to him. He can feel the dip of her lower back make an arch as she moved closer to him, her breasts squished into his chest by the pressure of her applied weight, and then his hand traveled up to the nape of her neck where he gentle gripped the hair there. He retrieved a whiny moan from this.

However, Ginny was able to regain her composure from their close proximity and pull herself away from his wanton lips but she never left the bed. She gazed up at him in wonder. It was never unique of him to be so lovable and cuddlesome to her but she could never get used to the fact that she is getting it from the man she had worshipped ever since she was ten. It amazes her to see how incredible he has gotten from that rookie wizard into the successful Auror he grown into. She did not become fond of his choice of career, especially when it always brought him back to the ghosts of his past, but mainly because she would be left to worry on those nights when he is away on a mission and she would be sharing her bed with her children while constantly wondering if he was surviving against the nasty criminals capable of doing more than just harming him. It stressed her and it scared her kids but she still supported him because he was free to make his choices. She just wished that he hadn't chosen a profession that brought him home bruised or scarred.

Ginny swallowed sharply when she looked at the faint, white lines on his arms – scars she knew he had gotten from his previous missions. They could not heal properly even with potions. She brought the arms to her lips to kiss. She had been in that place with him – she had suffered too much in battle also and she still have some wounds that would probably never heal – but her heart would always break for him. She cannot imagine being that painfully strong, that exerted, to be marked like he is. She continued her path along his arm, across faint scars that seemed to bear witness to a multitude of childhood accidents mixed with rough fights; he must have gotten it from the times his cousin, Dudley, had bullied him physically with his friends. She can feel him tense under her kisses but she did not stop until she reached the needle point of his elbow, her thumb running over the crooked lines of his scars.

She laid her forehead on his shoulder, her hands sliding together to rest on his torso as she breathed him in.

Harry moved so that she was flipped onto the bed. This time, he was the one to sit on her thighs, his weight pressured on the side of her legs so that her delicate frame would not be crushed under his heftier one. He ran his hands over the bare skin of her arms from her shoulders to the tip of her fingers.

Ginny held her breath as he traced along the scars that were still visible, barely but still there. There are several; another haphazard of the life they once lived. His calloused fingers danced across her pale skin, picking out the silver lines. He tenderly trailed each one and tried to let her know that they make her seem more beautiful to his eyes by his touch as he felt hers. She would shiver as he tickled along the exposed area of her collarbone. He can feel the thin pattern of lines invisibly marked there and he wondered what she went through to get these scars when she was stuck in Hogwarts and he was on the road for the Horcruxes. She looked like a soldier who fought brutally in war desperately for survival.

He remembered the bruises and blackened he saw on her a week after the war. The urge to protect her and heal her bubbled inside him in heights he never reached before. Ginny was his girl to protect. It was maddening to think someone would hurt her, a person who did not try to do anything but the right in the world for him.

He lowered himself to bring her up in his arms. He could feel her steady heartbeat as her calm breaths made his arm rise and fall. Harry sighed and tilted his head to press his cheek against the crown of her head as he embraced her tightly, fluttering his eyes closed in peace.

"You still need to go to work, darling," she pointed out teasingly.

Harry bursts out laughing; his plan to distract her had failed miserably.

Ginny playfully pushed him off her and swung out of the bed as she straighten out the wrinkles of her bed and patted down her hair neatly.

"Get up already, you lazy bum," she said jokingly. "By the way, have you seen my house keys?"

"They're in the dining room where you left them last night," Harry grumbled.

Ginny immediately darted out of the room in a complete fluster and Harry was left alone in his thoughts.

His mind wandered back to his time with Hermione; she was unusual. Throughout the years he has known her, she had never seemed so unordinary to him even when she was secretly coming up with ideas by herself. But last night, she was definition of oddity. She looked almost regretful that she gave up a life of mischief and adventure for meetings with the law enforcement and fighting for the rights she believed magical creatures deserved yet she was calm to have it. He figured perhaps it was her stress talking to him – she can sometimes be irrational when she overworked herself too. Or maybe it was the leave of her first born taking a toll on her and last night was her new way of coping with it. He would never know.

He was honestly glad that she still confided in him in spite of the small rift that had wedged between them. Their friendship never changed and it amazed him how so. He would still keep in contact with some of his old roommates and classmates to see how their lives have progressed into and he was fairly surprised that those who were close are no more. He came to learn that not all friends are meant to last long like he did with his but he was still curious at how they all managed to be together when they are not as close as they used to be daily. It could be because their only younglings go to the same school together or that he and Hermione work in the same career choice.

He was close to Hermione still because of that but Ron's presence seems to dwindle in his life and he wondered why. His best friend does have a difficult job that includes incomes, taxes, and a sharp supply and demand but Harry never understood why Ron does not visit him on his day-offs. Maybe he was trying to spend as much time with Rose before the day of departure and right now he is also accepting the fact that she has gone without him just like Hermione. Harry can believe that – he went through the same phase with James. He saw how Ron was protective and worrisome over Rose during their visits; he can see the love of a father always radiating off him with every call of her name or holding of her hand. She was his little princess like Lily was to Harry and now she was off in a world to grow up in a ruling queen to take over the king's throne. It was heartbreaking.

Harry sighed. _Where did the time go?_

A light tap nearby brought him out of his reverie and he shot up in time to see a Scops owl lightly land on the chair beside his window, its nails clutched into the armrest. It held and envelope in its beak, the squared paper sealed by a red wax with the seal of the Potter family stamped in. It was a letter from his son, Albus.

"Hey Pirate!" he laughed at the name his son had given to the owl. Albus had gotten the idea from a television program he used to watch in his infant years called Jake and the Neverland Pirates. He had been a fan of Peter Pan as it was the main reason why he had loved magic before he discovered he was a wizard.

Harry reached to the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out the plastic bag of owl treats he usually kept for Hedwig since he hardly got any posts from others then he went for his glasses to put them on. He rolled out of his bed and approached the patient bird to take the envelope or mostly to forcibly yank it out of Pirate's grip because the owl was still a bit judgmental of his new family. He dipped his finger fellow the wax and unfolded the parchment, greeted by the recognizable handwriting of his second child. He smiled merrily as he read the letter.

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _Everything is going fine over here. Hogwart is amazing! I absolutely love it. I got to meet Hagrid finally – he's the first friend I made out here. Lessons were unbelievable. I was able to turn Pirate in a cup in Transfiguration yesterday but he didn't like it – he's been a grump lately so be careful if he tries to nip you. Flying lessons weren't easy with Madam Hooch – she's a bit strict one – but luckily I had those tips from James and you so I was able to pass the first exam._

 _By the way, if you get a letter from Professor Flitwick, I swear it was an accident! I didn't mean to charm the bird in front of me! The food here is delicious but I miss your cooking, nothing beats it. Hagrid showed me a Hippogriff called Buckbeak – the one you told me about one time - and I got to fly on it! It's a lot more amazing than you said it was. James made it in the Quidditch team again and they're going against Hufflepuff tomorrow. Oh, I forgot to mention, I made it in Gryffindor! I was close to going into Ravenclaw but the Sorting Hat put me there instead. Rose got in Slytherin, though. And with Scorpius, too. I don't know how Uncle and Auntie are going to react to that. My dorm mates are okay, a bit rowdy and drive me batty sometimes but they're not boring so I guess it's not all bad._

 _Well, that's all I can tell for now. I'll send you another letter. I got loads more to tell you about my first day. I'll try to owl you before curfew._

 _Love,_

 _Albus_

 _P.S I reckon you feed Pirate as soon as possible. He's a bit sour with me still._

Harry folded the letter back into a square before he took one owl treat from the plastic bag and fed it to Pirate, avoiding the plucking of his beak to reach his fingertips. Then Pirate soared out of the bedroom and into the air.

"Harry, I'm leaving now!" Ginny's voice hollered from downstairs. "Make sure to get Lily to school on time!"

Harry wanted to tell Ginny about Albus' letter; he wanted her to know that their son was having a tremendous time at Hogwarts, that he had lived through his first day as a new wizard with such pride. But he heard a slamming of wood of the front door and he knew that she had already apparated away as soon as she stepped outside.

He sighed dejectedly. She never got to learn about her son's first day of school.

* * *

Thursday was not possible to have the interrogation is what they said to her as soon as she punched in. Apparently, Thorfinn Rowle had a scheduled meeting with his attorney, Olivia Mark, and Hermione knew that it was to discuss about the case, to prepare themselves for every possible angle she might point at them.

Olivia Mark is a successful counselor of the Ministry and the youngest aside from Hermione. She was easily recognized for the seven court cases she won through the year but in the defendant's side – she was a wall to her clients. She had gotten thefts, muggers, and robbers to be proven innocent of their crimes with the little evidence she held and the charm of her words were persuasive to convince the counselors to decide on letting them go although they end up returning to the Wizengamot a couple months later for performing another violation to the law. That was before Hermione was appointed the position with the same power as Olivia and she never met Hermione's raging arguments until November comes around.

Hermione did not approve of the decline of her request and to be accepted on this day so abruptly. She did not like to be rushed but then again, she had been the one to continue her morning activities with Ron even though she was the one who had protested in the beginning and let herself go for too long until her clock had buzzed that she had half an hour to come to work on time. She was pleased that she did make it before the clock struck seven-twenty and later she found herself waving at Gerald, who was approaching her from down the corridor to the break room she had just exited.

"Hey Hermy," he greeted as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb down her unkempt curls, and readjusted her brown belt of her pale peach chiffon blouse around her waist, tightening it.

"Hey Gerald," she flashed him a quick smile.

They began to walk down the hallways; the heels of her wedges clacking over the smooth stone floor and the flat base of his polished white shoes were tramping along with the rhythm of her feet pattern, as she continued to try to fix her appearance. She had picked the first pair of dark skinny jeans she spotted in her closet and almost forgot to put on her wedding ring on her way out of the house if Ron hadn't reminded her of it. Her hair was a whirlwind of tangled knots that she was considering of just pulling it back into a bun.

"You look like you just got out of bed," Gerald commented cheekily.

"That's because I _just_ did," Hermione answered as she reached inside her black purse for a white rubber band and began to brush her hair back, twisting it around behind her head before she tied the rubber around it.

"Rough night?"

"You could say that."

Gerald smirked. He had spotted the barely noticeable glow of her skin radiating a mile away, the slight wrinkles in her disheveled, and the tangled balls of knots buried in her hair. She could not fool him even if she tried.

"Was it good?" he asked with a sly grin.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The sex," he stated bluntly. "Was it good?"

Hermione's cheeks blazed in burning crimson red as her eyes widen in astonishment, her iris seem to have expanded also, and her mouth snapped open in complete awe. She thought she had covered her signs of sexual intercourse by the quick shower and the thousand sprays of perfumes she added on before she dressed up but unluckily, she was still obvious of her pleasurable morning with Ron to Gerald.

She loved him; he was the first gay friend she made in her life and she was happy to be close friends with a guy that her husband has no worries of growing any attachments to her so she had spent several hours together with Gerald as the older brother she never had. But unfortunately, it came with privileges of an older sibling such as teasing her and constantly mocking her. Others were surprised that Hermione hadn't fired him for his arrogance but those who knew them understood their relationship very well.

Hermione did the only thing that she could think of and shoved her elbow in his ribs.

"She's as abusive as she's rough in the sack, too," Gerald gasped, the coy smirk never wiping off his face, as he rubbed the now aching part she just damaged.

"Sod off, you manky twit."

"Oh, she's good with words too. Ron is a lucky muppet."

"Piss off, Gerald," Hermione rolled her eyes, however, a genuine smile had broken out on her face during their tirade. She could not deny that he was fairly good at taking out the child within her and she loved him for that. "Anyway, I've heard about the arrangement. Thanks for trying to set it up."

Gerald scoffed. "If it weren't for that slag setting up an appointment with Rowle, you would have gotten him this Thursday. Do you even know what you're going to ask him?"

"Loads," Hermione grinned slyly. "I might even get him to confess under pressure. You know how strong I can be when asking questions."

"You can say that again," Gerald chuckled. Then he looked at her seriously. "But be careful, though. The git is a dodgy one. He managed to convince the counselors his sorry excuse of a story so he's very good with words."

"I never believed a single word he said in the Wizengamot and I doubt I will now," Hermione replied heavily, a scowl scrunching up on her face as she crossed her arms. "Imperius Curse? Bah." She shook her head disapprovingly.

Gerald laughed at her distaste to the suspect as they rounded the corner of the corridors. While passing by an open cubicle filled with receptionists, they all whispered and giggled bubbly as they stared at Gerald, captured in an impressed trance, but they would scowl at Hermione. She chuckled to herself at their unreasonable pettiness. Everybody knew that she was married and she never made signs that showed her having interests in Gerald yet still they are people ignorant enough to believe in the latter side of their friendship.

When they reached the halls where the interrogation room is held in, Hermione's eyebrows flew upward at the sight of a familiar dark hair man wearing a long gray coat that reached to the ankles standing upright next to the door. He has a dark red armband wrapped around his upper arm with the crest of the Auror Department embedded into the band. He was wearing a pair of thin round framed glasses, a gray button-up shirt with the first two undone and revealing the white undershirt, and a pair of black trousers.

As they neared the person, Hermione's slowly stretched out into a wide grin once she got a clear view of his face.

"Well, this is quite a surprise," she gasped humorlessly, crossing her arms. "Especially from you."

Startled, Harry lifted his eyes up to find a casually dressed Hermione Granger standing in front of him. The dim light of the lit candles floating overhead made her face glow warm and her stare was lightened into an amber color hidden in the depths of her eyes. Her arms were folded over her chest and a brow of amusement was arched while her lips curled into a pleased grin.

"Counselor Granger," he smirked.

Hermione was taken aback by his form of greeting but quickly regained her composure and nodded at him politely. "Chief Potter."

Harry hid his arms behind his back and gave her a respectful bow. "I'll be your escort for today's interrogation."

"Seriously?" Hermione laughed.

Harry blinked. "Well, yeah. It's protocol to have an officer present for these things."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I mean," she stopped for a moment to let out a giggle. "Is it really necessary to be so formal? Come on, Harry, it's me."

Harry grinned sheepishly as he scratched the top of his head. "Just following procedure. Wouldn't seem right if the chief can't follow his own rules, you know?" he shrugged. "But was it really necessary to embarrass me like that? I have an image to keep for authority reasons, too."

Hermione looked at him meekly. "Sorry."

Beside her, Gerald clicked his tongue at her. "Always ruining a man's ego, I see."

"Shut it."

Gerald laughed and clapped his hand, rubbing his palms together as he inhaled deeply. He peered at Harry for a second, appraising the vibe worn over his posture, his eyes appreciative of the sight, before he turned to Hermione.

"Well, I need to get going – got a meeting with the Magical Transportation Department," he announced. "Something about underage wizards and witches caught doing apparation without a parental supervision. Got to make sure Twycross doesn't chew their heads off."

"Good luck."

Then Gerald leaned down to Hermione's height level, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear as he softly whispered "You're one lucky scrubber to be best mates with someone as handsome like Harry and to be married to Ron. You're the most envious woman in the world."

Hermione never paid attention to trivial things such as public envy of her close friendship with the most worshiped and desired man to the female population or her marriage with her easily attractive husband. She knew that she has irreplaceable relations with both men that she cherished strongly and there are many women who wished to be in her position right now only to be smothered by their physical appearances. She found those types of women a sorry excuse of her species. The fact that the two most important men – aside from her son and her two nephews – in her life also value her as equally as she does to them all these years made her very happy.

So, feeling another pang of elation flood up within her, Hermione just elbowed Gerald in the ribs again.

"Ow…" Gerald winced as he rubbed his sore ribcage and gave send a glare to Hermione, who was smirking at him snidely. "I'm leaving now before I end up with more than one broken rib from you," he muttered.

"That's probably for the best," she said sickly sweet.

"Good luck with this bint, Chief Potter," Gerald warned facetiously.

Harry laughed. "I will."

Then Gerald walked backwards down the hall, holding up one hand with his finger standing tall towards Hermione's way as he grinned at her scowl in return, before he whirled around and disappeared at the corner.

"How did you not fire him yet?" Harry wondered.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "I ask myself the same question."

Scratching the back of his head, Harry looked at her with a smile. He was happy to be able to see Hermione again; he had thought back at their night together continuously during his sorting of reports. He did not think he'd have the chance to see her or speak with her like they did before because her frequent visits have dialed down as her work schedule overloaded and his also as time passed by. But for him to capture another opportunity to have contact with her once more was refreshing and exhilarating at the same time. It was scarce of them being together nowadays.

Hermione pointed her curious eyes at him. "So, why have you graciously volunteered to be my escort? Don't you need to worry about your Death Eater cases?"

"I'm here because of those cases," Harry answered quickly. "Rowle was a Death Eater so he must know the whereabouts of some of the others. If I'm lucky, he could tell me the locations Yaxley and Jugson always go to – mostly Yaxley. With Jugson, I'm confident that Proudfoot will find him in no time. It's Yaxley I have my eyes on."

Hermione sighed. "So it's your interrogation as much it's mine?"

"Yes. So we should get going before our hour is up. One of my officers got a suspect in custody and they need to question her as soon as possible."

While he was saying this, Harry had turned to the door. He had just closed his palm around the cold metal when Hermione took his other arm in her hand and pulled him back to her, hauling him to look at her.

"Harry, I never asked," she said. "But why are you so desperate to capture Yaxley? Is it because of what he did to Ron?"

"Yes," Harry said briskly, his voice firm and steady as well as his eyes was piercing. "He needs to pay for that and the other crimes he's done."

"Harry," Hermione shook her head. "Do it in your own terms. Ron is satisfied by us winning the war that he doesn't even think about that anymore. Capture Yaxley because of his crimes, not because of Ron, okay?"

Harry swallowed hard and then nodded. He never stopped staring at her with an emotionless gaze as he opened the door and stepped aside while holding it, his other arm arched behind his back.

"Ms. Granger."

Hermione frowned. She knew that her words did not really go through to him like she hoped they would and she felt ridiculous to think that he would easily fall into her perspective. He was a stubborn man, reckless even. She had known that since he ignored her during their first flying practice in their first year – he had gone against her warnings of possible punishment if he was seen flying by Madam Hooch just to retrieve Neville's gift from Draco. It was courageous of him to risk points of their house and detention in his record for a friend, but it was also thick of him to almost get injured for it. They could have simply reported it to the professor as soon as she came back.

Hermione kept her chin high as she stepped into the concrete concealed room, and Harry followed closely behind her, the door shutting with in a slam after them. She could hear Harry muttering the Silencing Charm and the Muffliato Charm but her eyes were trained on one specific individual she sees sitting on one end of the wooden table present in the empty room and she can feel her fingers trembling as she curled them into a tight fist.

His blonde hair was no longer; it had been shaved off during inspection of the aurors. His onyx eyes were dead, the bottom of his eyelids were sagged with heavy bags and dark rims. His skin was grimy and smudged as if he had been rolling around in the dirt for more than a decade. A patch of unraveling and untucked facial hair was grown over his jawline, some of it nearly covering his mouth – it was dirty and indecent. From the short distance where Harry and Hermione stood, they can see his fingernails were blackened in mud and reddened by dried blood. He seemed like a sole survivor who had just been found. But the most gruesome part of him is the smug grin he held on his chapped and broken lips, showing his yellow-stained and crooked teeth. It disgusted Hermione greatly that she almost vomited a bit in her mouth.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Mr. Rowle." Her eyes moved to the woman seated beside him. "Ms. Mark."

"Come to grace me with your presence, princess?" Thorfinn asked snidely, the grim grin never faltering, and then his eyes shifted behind her. "Ah, I see you brought one of the dogs of the Auror Department, too. Funny. I didn't think they'd allow them in here."

Harry pulled his wand out from within the pocket of his coat as he stomped towards Thorfinn and then pointed it directly at his face, the tip harshly pressed against the center of his forehead, digging into his skin.

Hermione was quick to react in time and held Harry's arm tightly. "Harry, don't!"

Harry ignored her, his eyes fixed on Thorfinn. "If you keep up with your snide remarks, I'll curse your arse like I should have when I caught you. A few minutes under the Cruciatus Curse should be sufficient enough to teach you a lesson."

Thorfinn's attorney, Olivia Mark, butted in. "Then you'll be the one paying the price. One cast of any of the three Unforgivable Curses will earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban and inside there you have no one, not one of your lackeys to defend you. Tell me, Chief Potter, how do you think it will look in the morning newspapers when you're in the front page as the first Head Auror to be sent to Azkaban? I think it would look tremendous."

Harry's arm shook under Hermione's grasp, the pulsing of his muscles thrumming against her palms through the sleeve of his coat, and she also strengthened her hold on him as she shook her head, her eyes pleading him for his well-being.

"Harry," Hermione hissed under her breath. "It's not worth it."

Harry growled lowly.

"Harry," she tried again.

Finally, Harry lowered his arm and slipped his wand back inside his coat pocket, his fierce glare never wavering on Thorfinn, who was smirking at him knowingly. He walked towards the far end of the room, stuffing his hands in the deep pockets of his coat and leaned against the wall with a hard scowl towards the second male in the room as Hermione went to sit on the chair across the table. A heavy tension swelled in the room as the four settled in, two with the struggles of not taking out their wands and casting a hex to the suspected man while that one man was satisfied to see their tense reactions to his presence.

"So, Counselor Granger, to what do we owe the pleasure of meeting you today?" Olivia asked, breaking the silence.

"Well, first off, I would appreciate it that you do not speak to Chief Potter in the way you did," Hermione said sternly. "Need I remind you that if any or all information were to come out of this room, you will be arrested immediately on the spot under the Department of Aurors. Although, I don't approve of Chief Potter's behavior," she emphasized by sending a pointed look at Harry's way before she turned to Olivia. "But that doesn't mean I will accept yours."

"Alright then," Olivia nodded.

"Good."

From the wall, Harry was astounded to see this strict and professional side of Hermione. He had seen her act maturely and refined whenever she studied for an exam or for her own enjoyment and sometimes during their period in Dumbledore's Army, but he never saw her in the act of her career. He should have expected this from her yet he could not stop the pang of amazement and admiration he felt for her, taken by surprise at how intimating she can be to those who oppose her. He had witnessed it many times but it was strongly this time, more passionate. Her voice never wavered in her words and her eyes never flickered away from Olivia. She stood tall; she was a pillar woman. Nothing could seem to tumble her down now. Harry admired that about her.

"So what is it that you requested this meeting for, Counselor Granger?" Olivia asked directly. "My client has already said everything he's known since he's been victimized."

"Yes, he has and that's why I'm here," Hermione answered. "I've been reviewing his statement and I can honestly say it's very clean – too clean actually. And a bit too simple. How ironic is it that you're suddenly under the Imperius Curse after everything is over."

Thorfinn looked skeptical. "What are you suggesting?"

"Tell me, Mr. Rowle, how much of a coincidence can it be that you're suddenly a victim of the Imperius Curse as soon as the war is over?" Hermione questioned straightly. "With such background like yours, it could be the perfect excuse to save your own neck."

"Are you suggesting that he is lying, Counselor?" Olivia shot back. "My client has pleaded not guilty and they ran spell tests on him that confirms his influence under the Imperius Curse. Also-"

"I know about the spell tests," Hermione interrupted. "And I know about his alibies. I told you I've been reviewing everything about him. I have no doubt that he may have a fifty-percent chance to actually be proven guilty and released from all charges if you play your cards right."

"So why waste-"

Hermione held a hand up at Olivia but her eyes were settled on Thorfinn. "But the thing is, you never played your cards with me before." Hermione then took the folder from the table and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Thorfinn Rowle; born from a family of purebloods, Zachary and Lucy Rowle. Attended at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the year 1711, sorted in the House of Hufflepuff, and later dropped out in his fifth year. There have been several reports from both of his parents for his sudden disappearance in 1715 and then later in 1949, they were found brutally murdered – or to be more descriptive, _slaughtered_ – in their own homes. There was no sign of a break-in and it was considered an inside job. The murderer was never found."

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at her. "That's an invasion of privacy! You can't just look into my life like that."

"Oh, but that's where you wrong, Mr. Rowle," Hermione said. "According to Section 20, Paragraph 2; _all information on wizards and witches can be requested if used under the court of law or approved by the Minister of Magic._ And considering this case is happening due to numerous violations to the law, I have permission to use this," she smirked smugly at him.

Thorfinn glowered, his hand cracking lightly as he balled it into a fist beneath the table. By the far end of the room, Harry pursed his lips to prevent himself from snickering at the scene.

"Even if you are allowed to use Mr. Rowle's history as evidence, what does his parent's murder have to do with the case?" Olivia countered. "Are you saying that he killed them too?"

"Oh no, of course not, but if the shoe fits…." Hermione shrugged. "Everybody knows that if someone disappeared from the face of the Earth like Mr. Rowle did then it is because he is hiding the fact that he or she is working with the dark arts." Then she switched the papers. "I took the liberty of searching for your alibies to have a confrontation with them but unfortunately I couldn't."

Harry could see Thorfinn fidget slightly in his chair and noted that his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he gulped somewhat discreetly. He tried to not let his face break out into a grin at the obvious nervousness that Hermione is causing the suspect to feel.

"You see, all of your alibies," Hermione grinned. "Are dead."

An intake of breath was heard but no one knew if it was from Thorfinn or Olivia. Hermione pulled out a sleek sheet from the folder and slides it over to the other side of the table, a picture of a mangled body dusted in ashes and dried up in dirty blood was shown. The face was battered open deep enough to see the skull, the arms were twisted impossibly into painful angles, the legs were torn into two, and the torso was spewed out into the clear. A gloved hand was seen moving the head in different directions to show the jumbled facial features that are noticeable.

"Gibbon was a Death Eater along with you," Hermione continued. "His body was found under a pile of debris in Hogwarts back in 1997 and was later identified then reported dead. The cause was the Killing Curse the connection of the spell is directed to your wand."

"It was an accident," Thorfinn said. "It wasn't meant to hit him, it was-"

"Meant for Remus Lupin," Hermione finished, her voice laced with a cool venom and her eyes were harden in a cruel rage as the memory of her former DADA Professor's body lying on the floor in rubbles and cold skin flashed in her mind. She was horrified to see him motionless and emotionless in the cobblestones in the Great Hall, his chest showing no signs of breathing, his face having no speck of pain, and his hands lying limp in his sides with one tangled with his recent wife, Nymphadora Tonks. It was bittersweet to see that even through death, they are able to still find each other but to lose such great companions in a very crude way was still hurtful.

Hermione swallowed quietly then pulled out another photograph from the folder. It contained an image of an elder man unmoving on a set of crooked steps of a staircase, his eyes wide but hollow, and lightly bruised.

"Frank Bryce," she continued thickly. "Another victim who is dead. He was found in the old Riddle house in Little Hangleton. All traces of a Killing Curse connect to Lord Voldemort."

"He was a good friend of mine," Thorfinn murmured. "Grew up together."

"You may have in another life," Hermione remarked snidely. "But it is not likely. How could you two have possibly grown up together when he was born in 1917 and you were born in 1700? You're old enough to be his grandfather."

Thorfinn pursed his lips, remaining silent.

"Let's continue." Hermione reached for the final photo inside the folder and slides it over next to the other two. It was a young brunette, probably in her early twenties, lying on top of a boulder with the back of her head cracked open and her blood splattered over the rocky surface. Her eyes were open but lifeless. "Bertha Jorkins. Former member of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, also graduated from Hogwarts. She went on holiday to Albanis in 1994 and never returned. When they found her, she was murdered. All traces lead to the Killing Curse from Voldemort, too."

"This is ridiculous," Olivia stated. "This does not prove that Mr. Rowle did not know them. Just because he is older than them does not mean that they were not acquainted. And you said it yourself; all of these murders were caused by Lord Voldemort. There is no sign that it is directed to Mr. Rowle. Therefore, whatever theory you seem to be making, is wrong."

 _Uh oh_ , Harry thoughtful as he rolled his eyes at Olivia's words. He is one of the many people who knew better than to tell his best friend that she is wrong about something. He pressed himself against the wall whilst he waited for the storm to merge on.

"You're right," Hermione said. "All of these aren't directed to Mr. Rowle but my point of stating these is not to prove he murdered them, it's to prove that he was not truly under the Imperius Curse in the first place."

"Care to elaborate?" Olivia challenged.

"Gladly." Hermione smirked. "You see if Mr. Rowle was under the Imperius Curse by Lord Voldemort like he stated he was then that must have taken a great amount of magic to hold on for so long. One of the side effects of the curse being casted on for the many years Mr. Rowle was in is that it could cause some brain damage and affect one's memory of the events that happen. Everybody seems to forget about that whatever spells used to tamper with the mind can alter it. Therefore, if Mr. Rowle was truly under the Imperius Curse for so long, he should not remember anything, not even the day he got cursed."

Harry watched, amazed. He had known that Hermione's knowledge on charms and spells were infinite, that she could easily cast them and describe their usage or fatalities, but for him to see her use her memory in an extent that could be useful against another was incredible. Before she would debate whether someone was wrong about a charm, potion, or how to recite an incantation, including professors, and it was friendly back in the days, but now she was beyond her level of comfort in confrontations. She was hard, unnerving in this state and it is what made her excellent at her job. She was her own rock and nothing could seem to knock her down. How Harry never noticed this about her, he does not know. He was just mesmerized by this fascinating side of hers.

"Also, in your statement, you never said what time of day it all happened," she urged on. "On my way here, I talked to some of the shop keepers who have been here for a long, _long_ time. Coincidentally, one of them was an old classmate of yours, more specifically dorm mate. I don't suppose you know a Niall Mclaggen, do you?"

Thorfinn's blood ran cold at that name while Harry's eye widen in shock. Surely, it could not be a relative from their former classmate, Cormac Mclaggen. In Hogwarts, many generations are known to grow up together and follow the steps of the previous, old or new. But he had never heard of another member of Cormac's family to have attended the magical school. Then again, he was not fond of the fellow during his school days.

"He told me about how close you two used to be and all before you suddenly _changed_ ," Hermione explained. "He said you were a shy and timid lad until your fifth year – the year you dropped out and disappeared - you enjoyed hexing your classmates and began to be rather dark with your chums. When you were leaving, you had left behind a note saying your parents have taken you out of school and later that day, your old professor announced you have dropped out of the school. A bit ironic, don't you think?"

Thorfinn scowled. "That doesn't-"

"I also went to have a talk with every other store keepers," Hermione intruded. "Their children actually, and I showed them pictures of you as a child to now and they don't recall ever seeing you in Diagon Alley at all. The same is with the people who knew Frank and Bertha – you are _unknown_ to them. Therefore, my so-called _theory_ of you not being under the Imperius Curse stands. Besides...why would Lord Voldemort use the curse on you for? Becoming a Death Eater is a choice not something forced on."

"You _bitch!_ " Thorfinn yelled suddenly as he rose up erratically, his chair tilting back and falling into the concrete ground with a shattering thud.

Harry's stomach lurched alertly at the sudden turn of events and was soon seen towering behind Hermione with his wand at the ready, his instincts reacting before his mind out of reflex. The easily detected malic in Thorfinn's voice when he cursed his best friend had triggered a protective switch inside him and a spark of electricity ran up his spine that woke up an unbearable impulse to pull his best friend out of harm's way, an old feeling he always got when it came to her. He has no control over it whenever he saw harm coming to her or her attracting it – it was a natural reaction for her.

Hermione remained unmoved. "That's an improvement from what people usually call me."

"You think you're so great, don't you?" Thorfinn said. "It's your kind that has tainted our world. Nothing is the same anymore because of you. A filthy _Mudblood_."

A sensation lurched inside Harry by the maniacal look gleaming off in Thorfinn's eyes and he tightened his hold on his wand. "Stand down, Rowle."

"You act so high and mighty as if you're something special when you inferior to a house-elf," Thorfinn battered on. "All your achievements happened because you're associated with _Harry Potter_ and married to a pureblood, a blood traitor. If you were on your own, you wouldn't have survived and the changes you made wouldn't have happened."

Hermione stood from her chair and leaned forward with her hands firmly planted on the surface of table, her face only a few mere centimeters away from the bleach-blonde males'. Her face was calm and collective but her eyes were furious in a red blaze and spoke in a strikingly petrifying stare that could easily knocked down those its pointed to.

"Unlike you, Mr. Rowle, my achievements affected the world for the good of it instead of imprisoning Muggle-borns like me and mistreating magical creatures for pleasure," Hermione said. "Whether or not I knew Chief Potter or married my husband, things would still turn out the same way. Why? Because I don't give up so easily. Because I don't back down to the enemy no matter how powerful they are. And because I'm not _you_." Her eyes shined in pride and vengefulness. "And that is why I'm going to win."

With that, she walked away from the table and elbowed her way out of the interrogation room. The only thing breaking the stiff silence is the clacking of her heels.

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 **Please Review!**


	5. A Child's Curiosity

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters or locations used in it, and the songs mentioned. But I do own this plot.

 **A:N:** Thank you all for being so patient with this story. I know you all are itching to know what is the conflict between our loving trio and you will know soon. I promise! I hope this chapter with satisfy you will until you get there. It will not be long when the conflict is revealed. Honestly!

Also thank you so much for the reviews. Your feedback are motivating. Don't be afraid to say what you feel about the story so far. All criticism are welcomed.

Anyway enjoy!

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 _I should never think_

 _What's in your heart_

 _What's in our home_

 _So I won't_

Never think; Robert Pattison

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 _"Of course it is happening in your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"_

\- Albus Dumbledore; Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

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 **Chapter Four: A Child's Curiosity**

Harry hadn't heard from Hermione ever since that day she interrogated Thorfinn Rowle. It has been two weeks after she disappeared from his life again and it left him jumbled in the mind. He was used to having to wait another period of time until he spoke to her again but with the unfortunate comments and disrespectful behavior from their suspect, he could not stop worrying over her wellbeing. He knew that no matter how expressionless she may look on the outside, she was still fairly sensitive about her blood status being spat on disgustingly like Thorfinn did.

 _Mudblood_.

Harry grimaced at the word. His insides constricted and twisted uncomfortably as images of that day flashed in his mind. He had cancelled his interrogation session with Thorfinn and rescheduled for another available date afterwards in an attempt to search for Hermione and comfort her but she was nowhere to be seen later on. He figured that she would want to be alone in the meantime or maybe Ron could consult with her about her troubles in her job since he is her husband. Perhaps even young Hugo could try to distract his mother with his endless talkative personality and have her smiling with his lasting stories of irrelevant subjects.

Harry did not care what they did as long as it made her forget about that day and have her smiling the next time he sees her again.

During the weeks, Ginny had been enthusiastic about her dominating interviews with the famous worldwide Quidditch athletes and the uproar of her many articles in the Daily Prophet. The editor-in-chief had arranged a celebration for the successful numerous sales rating riding up in the charts in the name of Ginny's articles capturing the attention of their many readers and it was mandatory of her to make her appearance as she is the honorable guest of the whole occasion. She was pleased to have such a kind gesture from her own boss but Harry, however, was reluctant to arrive the scene.

"It's an important event," Ginny tried to reason with him. She was sitting at her vanity, the dim lighting of the bedroom casting a faint glow over the pale skin of her hands as she applied a basic coat of nail polish. She was wearing a silky beige nightgown that ended mid-thigh with beautiful designs sewed elegantly on the hem and around her collarbone. Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, revealing the seductive hairline on the nape of her pale neck. She looked like a model advertising for the latest nightwear.

Harry sighed as he slipped his sweatpants on and then rubbed his towel slightly wet towel over the moist skin of his shoulders. He had gotten home not too long ago when Ginny announced about the celebration and was recently refreshed from a cold shower by the time she brought the subject again. He knew that he would not be able to have any sleep tonight until his conversation with his wife was concluded with his decision on her plans with the Daily Prophet staff. Although, he hardly doubted he'd have any sleep tonight like the previous nights – his mind would still be racing about Hermione.

"I understand that, darling, truly," he said, his voice soft and smooth as velvet. "But you know how I am when it comes to the Daily Prophet. If you don't remember, I have a long line of history with those people."

"I get what you mean about that," Ginny replied. "I won't forget about the things they lied about just to get more sales but this is different, honey. Things have changed since then – there is new employment and they're quite nice."

"I'll think about it," Harry murmured as he dropped his towel in a hamper nearby. He went to the vanity to wrap his arms around her neck from behind and lowered his head down to give her right ear a lovely kiss before he nuzzled his face into it, his glasses rubbing against the softness of her rosy cheek. He planted tiny kisses below her ear as he slid his hands back and began to dig his fingers into her shoulders, massaging her muscles into loose knots.

"Please do," she hummed in appreciation, her voice barely above a whisper. "Cuffe hardly ever does something like this for anyone so it's really important to me. I'd love to be able to share the event with my husband."

"I'll see," he said as he released her and then turned to make his way to their king-sized bed covered by the lime green and pale yellow comforter that Ginny had begged him to purchase from Diagon Alley during the reconstruction one week prior. The bed creaked beneath his weight as he sat down then flicked on the bedside lamp and took his glasses off to place them on the nightstand before he rolled onto his back with a grunt. He lifted his head a bit to see the blurred outline of his wife still sitting at the vanity, hunched over her hand. "Come to bed," he suggested weakly.

"I'll be over as soon as my nails are dry," Ginny said over her shoulder before bringing up her hands to her lips and lightly blew.

Harry closed his eyes as he dropped his head onto the pillow and exhaled deeply, trying to steer his mind away from all thoughts on Hermione while Ginny's quiet blowing flowed into his ears. He truly could not stop thinking about his best friend in the past few weeks; her presence does not seem to exist from his life anymore and it hurt him sharply. He had even spoken to her assistants about her whereabouts but they would respond to him that she was being too productive about the case that she barely talked to them or leave her office during her breaks even if they tried to be persuasive and the other members of her department had admitted to him that she did seem impassive for the following days, almost as if she was never really there in her mind. They figured that she was calculating different angles about the case or about the reports she has been getting for magical creatures because she usually looked like that when she is thinking.

Harry had spoken to Olivia Mark earlier today about his own interrogation with Thorfinn Rowle and she had agreed to his request, telling him to expect an owl from her to confirm their arrangement. He was bold to ask her about Hermione and her answer was the same as the other counselors. Although she was in the opposing side of the case with Hermione, she was still her companion in the government and she was sincerely concern about her disappearance to her fellow employer. Olivia had personally went to Hermione's office to apologize about her client's attitude towards her but the young witch would not allow anyone enter by the ward she had casted on her door during her shifts and sometimes Olivia would wait until the end of the day to catch Hermione on her way home but she never came her way. Harry figured that Hermione would disapparate directly from within her office.

As the days turned into weeks, Harry felt somewhat empty. He could not shake the feeling that perhaps Hermione was avoiding only _him_ out of everyone in the Ministry. Her co-workers do get to see her when she clocked in and clocked out but when his turn came around, she was gone. He could not understand why she would be so distant of him when he is the one trying to comfort her from the incident. Or maybe she was embarrassed that he had to be there to witness her at her job. It was the first time he had seen her in action at what she does best and that may not be the first time she had gotten her blood status insulted by those she went to court against but she never let it happen in front of him. Harry found that to be a pathetic reason of her absence; she had gone through worse in his eyes for her to feel ridiculed. She even praised her own blood status in front of Griphook and the goblin was not fond of witches or wizards.

It was frustrating for him to not know about her. Normally, he'd hear about Hermione's daily schedule through waves of rumors and gossip through department after department but so far everything about her was completely silenced. It struck his sanity due to no knowledge over hers. She was her best friend and he should have the right to know about her especially when she was looked down upon so horribly. He could not seem to rest or concentrate on his own cases until he comes in contact with her.

Luckily, he got his answers the day he returned from his uneventful mission to escort a wealthy witch to Scotland to sign a treaty between her family and theirs. Commotions about the Rowle case buzzed throughout the wizarding world as the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet had published the fresh news and one of the main attractions had been none other than Hermione Granger. He had gotten his copy on his way back home, hoping that maybe the answers he had been searching for may lie within its pages, but he never truly got the chance to read it because he was ambushed by the welcoming hugs of his daughter and the giddiness of his wife as soon as he stepped in the front door.

Reaching for his glasses from the nightstand, Harry took the newspaper from the edge of the bed where he had left it and instantly flipped to page fifteen where most talked political news was heard all around. His eyes narrowed at the title that read MUGGLE-BORN TAKES OVER THE LAW and scowled to see the name of the reporter to be the famously known Rita Skeeter, but nonetheless, he urged himself to read at least the first paragraph.

 **MUGGLE-BORN TAKES OVER THE MINISTRY**

By Rita Skeeter

 _The most anticipated case of all wizard-kind seems to be coming to a close sooner than expected as the commonly known counselor, Hermione Granger, 37, has been seen scouting the abandoned Rowle manor in Liverpool this morning where the late occupants, Zachary and Lucy Rowle, have been found murdered in 1715. Sources say she had collected evidence of the unsolved murder case that may be connected to current suspect and former Death Eater, Thorfinn Rowle. When asked about the process of the case to one of the Aurors who escorted Counselor Granger, he sounded confident in his fellow employer._

" _We're doing everything we can to put this bloke behind bars," said Auror, Aiden Pritchet, this morning. "I have no doubt with Counselor Granger's intelligence and vigilance on our side, this case will be over before its even due."_

 _He was questioned about the choice of spell used to kill the deceased Rowles and the belief that the usage of Sectumsempra, a spell invented by the former Potions professor of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. However, his respond had left many puzzled._

" _This man is a hypocrite to all types of blood status of witches and wizards," he said, mostly glowering. "He shows his distaste in what Counselor Granger is when he is no better. That is all I have to say."_

 _Counselor Granger was unavailable for comment, although her husband told reporters to clear off or he would hex them to the next week._

A knocked came from the door. Harry looked up to see the tiny figure of his daughter leaning against the frame of his door with her fingers twiddling together and her feet wiggling their toes over the carpet. Her short red hair was tied back into two low pigtails; she was wearing the Frozen edition pajamas they bought for her in late 2013 as a Christmas present.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing still up?" Harry asked as he folded the newspaper and dropped it beside him. She was just as inquisitive as her mother and he did not want her to stumble upon his work. "You have school tomorrow."

"I'm hungry," she pouted.

"Hungry?" Harry quirked an amused eyebrow. "Supper today wasn't satisfying enough?"

She meekly shook her head.

Harry groaned as he climbed out of bed, put on his glasses again, and approached his waiting daughter, pulling her up in his arms and held her to his hip. Ginny's nails had finished drying at the time and she turned to them on her chair, looking at her husband playfully tickling Lily as he jokingly promised her to be tortured into sleep. The corners of his mouth were stretched by his smile, his glasses resting gently on his nose with his hair in disarray, sticking up in every direction. He was the perfect display of a working man and loving father.

"Daddy, stop!" Lily laughed as she swatted her father's hand away from her ribs, feeling them beginning to ache by the never-ending tickling attack he kept lurching on her, and she kept her hands up as a cautious shield from his troubling fingers. She sent him a pouty glare, sticking out her bottom lip as a silent plea, and her eyes narrowed at him in an adorable threatening manner that made her parents chuckle. She never grew out of her baby face and every time she tried to do a hard face, she would look like an infant begging for her mother. No one ever took her seriously unless she locked herself in her room or was crying.

"Alright, alright," Harry said. "What you like to eat?"

"Pizza!"

"Well, it's a little late for that, don't you think?"

"Nope!"

Harry glanced over at Ginny to see her putting away her nail accessories although her body was angled to face them. She must have felt his gaze on her because she glanced up from her vanity and smiled at his direction, her eyes wrinkling on the sides. She also noticed her daughter's face was beginning to color red in impatience by her father's lack of attention on her and she inwardly blamed Harry for spoil her so rotten like he had said he would if they ever had a baby girl. She can only hope that she would outgrow that phase quicker than she is passing through it. She looked back at Harry and nodded.

"Want me to make some of the pizza I learned when I went to New York?" Harry asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yes!" Lily squealed excitedly, basically squirming in her father's hold.

Harry knew that Ginny was mostly against the idea of their daughter eating unhealthy food so late in the night and wanted her to maintain a balanced diet like she saw Hermione do with Rose in the earlier years but they both knew very well that such strong meals would cause Lily to become drowsy rapidly. They don't always feed her sweets or junk food whenever she pleased but they do on occasions such as a school night. It was also another good way for them to spend time with their young blood; Harry did not like to cook anything that required more effort than sticking something in the microwave despite the fact that he lived his life behind the stove in the Dursley's home and would prepare dinner at some nights. While Ginny may have helped her mother in the kitchen in her younger years, she did not enjoy the heat and getting burned by the fire. Yet, they are willing to make an exception if it meant taking back the time they miss with any of their children.

Lily smiled brightly as Harry began to carry her down the hallway. "With pepperoni?"

"Yes."

"And mushrooms?"

"Yes."

"And what about olives?"

"It wouldn't be pizza if it didn't have any, now would it?"

"How about extra cheese?"

They had entered the kitchen area when she asked. He gently placed her on the stool by the counter and patted her head affectionately.

"How about you go get what you want on the pizza and put it on the counter? I'll get started on the dough," Harry insisted, already making his way to the pantry beside the refrigerator.

"Okay!"

As Harry began to prepare the crust, swiftly covering everything in puffy flour, his mind started to wander back to Hermione again. He desperately needed to see her after reading a portion of the article, wanting to see her during her process of gathering information for her case. He wanted to know why she did not include him during the investigation at the Rowle Manor and to find out who had given permission to his officers to escort her to a restricted area. He knew for sure that she was avoiding just him if she was able to walk in his department and request for Aurors. Now he wanted to know why.

Lily had collected the ingredients and piled them onto the counter; tomato sauce, Swiss and American cheese, mushrooms that Molly had grown in the garden of the Burrow, bacon, sausage, pepperoni, green pepper, and tiny croissants squares. He could not recall the exact moment when she loved having that on her pizza. He summoned the wooden spoon from the bin by the sink and handed it to Lily, telling her to wait for him to spread the dough so she could add the sauce. Then he enchanted the cheese grater from one of the cabinet drawers and it came flowing over to his side to begin grating on the two blocks of cheese.

"Daddy, can I head over to Hugo's tomorrow?" Lily asked.

"Only if your mother or I don't need to come out of work late," Harry said as he kneaded the dough, wincing lightly. His knuckles split from his escort to Scotland, waving his wand being knocked out of his hand by one of the security guards of the opposing family and he needed to perform physical combat to maintain the situation under control. He did not bother taking a potion for his wound because he thought that it was just a swell that would die down naturally but he mentally noted to take a potion before bed.

Lily was not pleased by his answer. "But mum always comes out earlier than you. I want to see Hugo."

"I'm sure he wants to see you too, sweetie, but we can't just drop you off like that," Harry said. "Ron and Hermione are busy people and Hugo is likely with your grandmother most of the time." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Besides, don't you want to go out with some of your chums from school? I haven't seen them around often."

"They're _boring_ ," Lily murmured. "All they do is use their phones to take pictures and post it on Instagram. That or for Snapchat."

Harry blinked in confusion. Technology in the Muggle world had gotten advance through the years but he never had caught up to the new because he was accustomed to the old ways of communication through an owl post or to simply talk to the person directly. The closest object he has is a landline but those went out of style many ages ago and have been replaced with small devices called iPhones, Kindle Fire HD 7, Chromebooks, and many more. He could not understand the function of the technology nowadays which is why he is relieved that neither of his kids were tempted to have one like most do.

"Uh, I'm sorry to hear about that," Harry said awkwardly as he continued to work on the dough, stretching out his sore muscles and silently cringing in pain by the throbbing sensation that is stinging him by the shoulders too.

"Can I please, _please_ go to Hugo's tomorrow?" Lily pleaded childishly, kicking her feet against the legs of the stool.

"I'll talk to your mother about it later," Harry replied. "But if you keep up with your attitude, I won't let you go anywhere," he added sternly.

"Okay," she quickly agreed, a hopeful smile replacing the small pout she had been using to persuade her father. She leaned forward slightly to peer over her father's arms and raised an eyebrow. "Daddy, I think that's enough cheese."

Harry stopped kneading the dough and looked at the formed pile of mixed cheese next to him. He laughed, "I guess it is." He used his wand to send the cheese grater to the sink. "Want to add the sauce?"

Lily nodded vigorously with a wide grin. Harry went to move her stool in front of the handmade dough and then took the jar of tomato sauce to pop the lid open. He tilted it over to spill a blob of sauce on the dough and stood there in silence as he watched Lily use her spoon to spread the substance over the flour.

He cherished moments like this with his children, knowing that each of them would eventually leave him and go to Hogwarts when they come of age, grow up without him throughout their school years, and then they would be starting their lives in a blink of an eye. He was aware that they would have to grow up but he was not mentally prepared at how fast they would. It was heartbreaking to see how small his family seemed with the absence of his two boys and was wrenching to know that Lily was soon going to follow their footsteps in two years. He had learned that time did fly fast when he saw Albus climb on the Hogwarts Express and he was determine to be able to share his remaining time with Lily as long as he has it.

"Daddy?"

"What?" He added more tomato sauce on the dough and let her continue to spread it out onto the edges.

"How come Auntie and Uncle don't come over anymore?"

Harry pursed his lips, hesitant. He could not find a way to explain to his daughter about the sacrifices an adult has to make in the reality of the world they live in. He did not want her to feel so down about paucity of his best friend's visits, not when he was still coping with that cruel fact too.

"They're…busy," he responded thickly. He decided to distract himself from the hollow feeling creeping in his heart by summoning a chef knife from the drawer close by and began to chop the mushrooms and green peppers into small cubicle shapes as Lily continued to add another layer of tomato sauce onto the dough.

"Too busy to see me," Lily murmured, her voice laced with despair and sadness as she stared at her sauce-covered wooden spoon with vacant eyes. Her face could not be covered by her hair as it is tied in neat pigtails so Harry could visibly see how upset she truly was of not seeing her favorite relatives often like before. "They don't like me anymore."

Harry shook his head. "Yes they do, sweetie. It's just their jobs…they're…hard. Kind of like a math exam."

Lily's face scrunched up in annoyance. "At least exams end as soon as you take them," she mumbled under her breath.

"You'll understand when you're older," Harry said. He scooped up a handful of the chopped ingredients and began to scatter them heavily over the sauce as soon as Lily was done. "But for now, let's enjoy this pizza, okay?" There was a somewhat hard edge leaking out from the sincerity of his voice that made her nod. "Start putting on the rest while I go get the tray."

"Okay, daddy."

Harry walked over to the pantry he left open and reached up to the top shelf to take the wooden pizza tray in his hand before he returned back to Lily. However, he halted in the middle of the kitchen once he saw a new sight from his daughter; her head was lowered, her shoulders were tense as they shook, and tiny noises were surfacing from the back of her throat in ragged breaths. She was clearly trying to quieten up her sobs as she cried, and Harry felt awful for being the possible cause of her tears, the thought piercing through his body like the blade of Godric Gryffindor's sword shot up of the basilisk's head.

Lily used to be fairly close to Ron and Hermione before their jobs had gotten profitable. She used to always head over to their houses after school nearly every day to be able to spend the day with them or with Hugo and Rose, playing magical chess with Rose, normal Muggle games with Hugo, or playing Quidditch with Ron on the backyard. She would stay in the kitchen with Hermione to make lunch and later in the night, she would have Hermione read her one of the novels she owns. Even though they were stories not meant for children in Lily's age, they were appropriate and Lily actually enjoys listening to Hermione read them to her until she fell asleep. Harry and Ginny would allow her to spend overnight at the Weasley residence from time to time, sometimes even for several weeks, but those days were over sadly.

Nowadays, the only way Lily could be in close contact with them is either through telephone or owl post and there are times when she does not receive anything which leaves her depressed for a short while. Now that Harry thought about it, the last time Lily ever had spent a whole day with Hugo was actually two weeks ago when they dropped off James, Albus, and Rose at King Cross. She hadn't seen her close cousin since. He can only imagine how bad it is for Hugo, too. Those two were basically Hansel and Gretel separated.

With a sigh, Harry walked to his daughter, placing the pizza tray on the couch, and wrapped his arms around her neck from behind like he did with Ginny and pressed his lips against her temples in a chaste kiss. He could feel droplets of her silent tears dripping on his forearm as she cried, her tiny body shivering involuntarily with her shaky breaths, and her crooked inhales through her hiccupped gasps. He did not dare to not look at her face because he can already imagine how calamitous she will be through his eyes and he would never forgive him for that.

"I'm sorry," Lily whispered almost inaudibly.

"No apologies, love," he also spoke in a low voice, his words merged with the gloom of his inner woe. "Believe me, I know how you feel. I miss them too. I grew up with them and for us to be so far from each other is hard for me."

"Then…" she hiccupped. "Then how come we don't visit them?"

"I don't know," he murmured. Those words hit him with a bigger impact than he anticipated. "How about we finish this pizza?" he insisted softly, never releasing her.

Lily just nodded. Her tears spoke for her as they kept wetting Harry's arms with each drop of water her eyes shed. But she kept adding more ingredients to the sauced dough.

* * *

When the pizza had been baked ready, they did not eat it in the dining room or return to the master bedroom where Ginny was patiently waiting for them. Instead, they headed up to the third floor of the house where Harry kept his private study; he normally went up to the secretive area to finish crime reports he would bring home or to just enjoy an hourly time of relaxation to himself for the day. Nights like this, he would allow any of his children to enter the room to eat any respective late evening snacks they make together and to just speak about the upmost random topics they could think up to pass the time while listening to the father clock tick away in the distance from them.

It was a cozy room. The walls were paneled in dark wood, towered over by tall bookshelves that reached to the high ceiling and carried books updated to the latest volume. There were also portraits of his Hogwarts days following up to his years in Auror training. A huge mahogany desk was placed by the wide, east-facing windows where one can gaze over the small village of Godric's Hollow and a lit up fireplace was in the far west side of the room, illuminating along with the pale light of the moon casting through the windows. There was a long sofa a few feet away from the fire along with mismatching bean bags that were bought for the kids and a low table between. The room was simple yet elegant and held a sense of his daily profession in the atmosphere but it always remained homey.

Harry was seated on the sofa watching Lily worship the moving portraits from the bean bag she sat on in front of him, humming in awe as she chewed on her heavy piece of pizza. A plate was on the low table, smothered in sauce and splayed with tiny crumbs of baked dough, showing the remains of the homemade pizza they shared together. He can feel his eyelids starting to flutter over his vision, indicating that the timing was late and he needed to carry his daughter back to bed as well as himself, but he did not want to end the night just yet. He loved to see her appraise over his portraits, over the portions of his life that he kept close to the heart because they are what show who he truly is – not the Chosen One that the wizarding world had labeled him as but as just Harry, the boy who lived his days happily and lively with those he loved – and for him to see his daughter being fascinated by that side of him brought pride in him.

"Mum was smashing when she was young," Lily praised after she swallowed. Harry forced his eyes wide to glance up at the portrait her head is inclined towards. "Will I ever look like that?"

The picture was of him and Ginny after she graduated from Hogwarts; he was standing behind her as he held her around the waist, nuzzle his cheek against her, making her laugh by his public affections towards her, and her turning her head to peck him on the lips or nose. She was wearing a simple white dress that ended above her knees beneath her unzipped graduation robes and a pair of cream wedges that accustomed her skin tone. She looked classical in contrast to his casual attire of a plaid red t-shirt under a black jacket and a pair of faded jeans that had hems bagging slightly over his converse. She had told him to come as he normally looked and he did as she wished although Molly did not approve his outfit for the event that took place but Ginny was calm about it.

"You will when you're older," he assured her, his tone asleep. "You might even become popular with the boys like your mum was."

"You think so?"

"Let's hope not."

"I like that one, too," Lily stated as she pointed a finger at the portrait hung above the fireplace and Harry was nostalgic at the memory it contained.

It was of him, Ron, and Hermione on her graduation day; she was standing between them with her arms slung over their shoulders, kissing Ron on the cheek ecstatically and ruffling Harry's hair happily as she smiled wildly, her eyes shining brightly in relief and pride at the fact that she finally finished her education. Ron was dressed in a light brown dress shirt tucked in a pair of gray trousers and dress shoes while Harry was in the same clothes as the previous picture since Hermione had shared the special day with Ginny. She was the only one among the trio who chose to return to Hogwarts to finish her last term, like Harry had expected her to in spite of the opened doors offered to her by the Ministry after the war, and he was felt so proud of her of her hard work. He knew that she did not have to struggle as much as the other students probably did, but it was the thought that counted.

He smiled. "Me too."

"You think I'll have friends like Auntie and Uncle?" Lily asked curiously.

"Most likely."

"I hope so," Lily said. "I want to become a family like you lot did."

"A bit too young to be thinking about that, aren't you?" Harry chuckled.

"I'm a big girl," she retorted defensively. She shoved the last piece of her pizza in her mouth and chewed soundly. "I'm old enough to want a family," she said, her words muffled with the squished crust of her pizza.

"Don't chew with your mouth full," Harry said seriously before letting out a sigh. He wondered how Ron's eating habits had been born into her. "And you already have a family."

"I want my own," she remarked. "Like you did with Auntie and Uncle. You're not related but you're family."

"We were already family before Hermione married Ron and I to your mother," Harry said honestly. "Blood isn't the only thing that can make a family. It's the people who stay there to the end."

"Like Uncle and Auntie did with you in the war?"

"Exactly."

"Was it the war that made you a family?"

"No."

"What made you family?"

Harry took a moment to think back in his memories, reflecting over his life events to the very beginning. Then he smirked, "A troll."

"A _troll_? Aren't those giants daft?"

"Yes, they are."

"How did a troll make you family?" Lily raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Well, when Ron and I met Hermione for the first time, we didn't particularly like her all that much – she was bossy and too brainy," Harry explained. "Ron was the most from the two of us who was blatant on his dislike towards her and ended up hurting her feelings and making her hide in the girl's toilet. At the time, Quirinus Quirrell was our professor for DADA class and he had let out the dungeon troll as a diversion – that's another story for another time – and she took the blame for us when the teachers came. Ron and I saw that she wasn't really as awful as we thought she was and befriended her. Ever since then, we've been inseparable."

"Wicked," Lily breathed in awe, the incredulous look on her face making Harry laugh humorlessly at her reaction. "So I need to save someone from a troll to make a family?"

"Not really," Harry shook his head. "Everybody has their own way to make a family. Our way was just…abnormal."

"That's okay," Lily said. "Normal is boring anyway."

Harry just smiled at her optimism and went back to watching the crackling fire engulf the burning log in its blazing heat.

Lily glanced back at her father over her shoulder, seeing him stare at the portrait with longing eyes and a solemn smile crept on his lips. "Daddy, can I ask you something?"

He blinked out of his trance and turned to his daughter. "What is it?"

"You and Aunt Hermione were best mates before mum, right?"

"Yes. We still are."

"Then how come you two never stepped out?"

Harry's eyes widen in surprise at her question. He surely did not expect that. "Why would you ask that?"

Lily pushed herself off the bean bag and skipped over to the sofa, hopping lightly on the cushion beside her father. She bends her knees up to her chest and hugs them closely with her arms as she rested her chin upon them, her interested eyes kept their interested pupils on him.

"Doesn't the hero always get the girl?" she wondered innocently. "That's what always happens in Albus' comics. Superman got Lois Lane. Mr. Fantastic got Invisible Woman. Thor got Jane. And the other superheroes got to be with the girl."

"Except Batman," Harry muttered. "That bloke never lasts with anybody he comes across with."

"That's not the point, daddy," Lily said. "How come you never got with Auntie?"

"Because I wasn't the only hero of my story," Harry answered sincerely. "Your Uncle was a hero too and your Auntie was a heroine. She fell for Ron instead and I fell for the idea of having the love of a sister. Plus I did get the girl - I got your mother."

"But Invisible Woman was a heroine in Fantastic Four and she still got together with Mr. Fantastic. Superheros always get together with the first woman they meet and you met Auntie first," Lily pointed out. "So you didn't love her because she was a hero, too?"

"No," Harry laughed. "I didn't love Hermione because…" he trailed off into a sudden silence as he struggled to find the words for his reason. Only he could not seem to find a reason why he was not interested in his best friend before. Instead, he gave himself the question as to why was he not interested in Hermione.

"Daddy?"

"Uh…" Harry cleared his throat and rose up from the sofa. He hadn't realized that he had zoned out for more than a minute until he heard her voice. "We should get you to bed, sweetie. It's already late."

Lily pouted in disappointment but nodded in agreement reluctantly with slumped shoulders. She raised her arms up to tie them around her father's neck as he picked her up from the sofa and then she wrapped her legs around his torso whilst he carried her out of his study, laying her head on his shoulder to feel the rocking sensation of his steps vibrate her mind to unconsciousness.

The trip down to the second floor was quiet with only the light breaths coming from a calm Lily. He walked down the hallway, his hand lightly rubbing the spine in Lily's hunched back as he hummed a melody he just formed in his head. He did not know where he got it from, he felt very familiar with it and it helped him ease away any suspension among them on his way to her bedroom. It wasn't until he reached Lily's bedroom that he realized it was actually a Muggle song he heard Hermione play on the piano she has occupied in her home and she had performed that song a couple of times to Rose whenever she had a nightmare, eventually making it her lullaby. He remembered it was sometimes during 2012 when the song was popular and it was close to December the first time he heard her play the piano version of the song to the kids as entertainment. They were easily fascinated by how flawlessly and effortlessly she ran her fingers across the keys, never once missing a single note. Now every Christmas, they would beg her to play another song on the piano as a family tradition.

Since Hermione grew up with Muggle parents, she was surrounded by all kinds of music as the years progressed on. He had heard a couple of them from the times he'd drive in her car before he got his; she had Chicago style jazz, reggae, indie rock, classical, and some r&B. Hermione had to explain what kind of genres they were to because Harry did not know what they were - he never listened to music that isn't from the wizarding world. He thought Hermione's choice of music was rather odd to listen to as some seem to not really make sense in the lyrics but her passion for them was amusing to see and it had gotten passed down to his children as they do not look for any of the styles of music that their generation were interested in. James was closest to Hermione as she is his godmother and he was influenced by her musical choices at a young age; he had even asked Hermione to lend him her old gramophone to play the records he had gotten from her as a gift. She then gave it the record player permanently, stating she did not have room in her house anymore for the object.

James' love for Hermione's music increased as he grew. He'd willingly do his chores around the house for a raise of his allowance and later on plead to him or Ginny to take him to his favorite music store in London to buy another set of records. Every day, his room would be thrumming by the slow beats of his abnormal music and he would sometimes be found asleep by the melody of a song. By the age of seven, Albus was following James' footsteps. Lily would listen to some of James' old albums but she was not as ardent like her older siblings were as she preferred to hear songs from One Direction and Justin Bieber – Harry did not bother to learn the names, he just knew they were boys. Maybe it was one of the genres that children in her age listen to nowadays.

" _We were silenced by the night_ …" Harry softly sang as he gently laid Lily down on her bed, keeping his tone low because he knew he did not have a great voice, and then he pulled the comforter from the edge of the mattress to lightly cover her small body to the shoulders. She cuddled deeper into the inviting warmth and nuzzled deeper into the plush of her light purple pillow with a high, whiny yawn. " _But you and I…We're gonna rise again…_ " he whispered faintly, letting his voice trail off into the silence of the room as he watched his daughter slumber away. He touched her shoulder and then swiftly walked out of the room, pulling the door until he left a small crack.

On his way back to his bedroom, he thought about Lily's question. Why wasn't interested in Hermione before? She was the first female he had ever gotten close to in his life before Ginny came in so he should have felt at least some attraction towards her. She was a cute girl when they were young despite her buck teeth, her long bushy hair, and demanding attitude at the time but her cleverness was an impress trait about her that would make him inspired to want to learn in a short period and her stubbornness was her way to show her determination on any task she was focused on was always pleasant for him to see especially when she came up with a new discovery through her work. He will admit that at least.

He will not lie to himself that Hermione indeed developed into a wonderful woman inside and out. He knew she was a girl before her evolution but he was reminded so suddenly during their fourth year just how much she had matured physically and mentally. Her entrance to the Yule Ball was a memorable milestone in her life that would forever be a mark in their history; her usual bushy hair was tamed into sleek, wavy curls that would elegantly cascade over her shoulders and back, her sheepish grin was a bit crooked in nervousness but alluring by her perfected teeth, and the floaty, periwinkle-blue dress robe she wore had pronounced her growth by how the material would hug her divine figure. She looked ahead of time from their grade that night – she looked like she did not belong by her unexpected inner beauty. She did not keep her hair as neat as she did that night afterwards but the effects of the potion she used had made her tresses controlled from irritable knots she usually got and her style advanced more feminine as she grew up, making her attract attention by some men. Harry had seen those unknown men set their eyes on Hermione from afar but he never voiced them out because he knew how Ron's temper was.

As Harry entered the room and went directly to his bed, he found out that he did find Hermione a pretty woman, a beautiful one now in fact yet he could not find the reason why he was not attracted to her like those other men were. Perhaps it is because he does not really go for the appearance of a person to judge them even though he had come to terms that she was quite an eye candy. He had learned that lesson with his former crush Cho Change; she was a fascinating girl to look at by her dynamic flawlessness but her personality was flawed.

But with Hermione, he knew her. She is his best friend. She was extremely intelligent all around, a hard-working person in general, very responsible of anything including her or those she loved, and well put-together. She can sometimes be a control freak especially when she was a prefect in their fifth year, he can clearly vouch to that. Her sense of humor was limited at a certain point. She was also intimidating when she wanted to be like the day she interrogated Thorfinn – Harry would have hated to be the one sitting at the end of her question.

Yet, she was a strongly loyal person and a fully courageous woman. She had proven many times just how much of an influence she can be and how trustworthy she is to those she held dear to her heart; she would risk anything for the safety of her loved ones like the time she had gotten Harry's Firebolt confiscated in fear it was jinxed or when she had argued with him and Ginny over his use of the Half Blood Prine's textbook. If it was in her friend's best interest, she would be the one hanging over the edge of the cliff for them. The strength of her willpower is one of her many characteristics that Harry finds her outstanding; her refusal to break under torture during Bellatrix's torture on her at the Malfoy Manor was something that Harry would never forget. The physical pain he felt through her horrible screeches as she screamed in agony is what inspired him to withstand his fears during the Horcrux hunt and pressure on. She was strong enough to have her skin scarred while awake and it woke up his belief in him because she believed it was worth going through to end the war.

Now that he thought about it, Hermione was the ideal woman he was expected to get together with. Maybe even his parents had already approved of her as his future anything from watching up above. Several people had assumed their friendship as something beyond platonic so he knew they were exquisitely close to cause confusion to their onlookers and admirers but what left him befuddled is why they haven't passed the borders of their friendship. Why hadn't he tried anything to make them much more? He had opportunities to be more than friends with Hermione but he never took them. He wondered why.

Harry shook his head and took of his glasses, placing them on the nightstand before he laid back into the pillows with his hands cupping the back of his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He felt ridiculous for letting his mind be engrossed by a child's curiosity. Why was he thinking about this? He had no reason to. He was just reminiscing the past for trivial purposes. Hermione is just his best friend; she always has been since they met and he will eternally grateful for the sacrifices she had made for him, although a couple of them were extreme but they could not change his perspective on her for what she is to him now.

And still, he couldn't stop himself from asking… _why?_

Why didn't he fancy Hermione instead of Cho or Ginny? Why didn't she fancy him instead of Viktor or Ron? Why didn't they get together?

"The homework never ends, does it?" Ginny asked. He looked to his side to see her leaning against the headboard with the newspaper on her lap, flipping through the pages idling with hardly any interest. She was part of the busy so any topic printed is no news to her.

"Afraid not," he said.

"Hermione can't seem to stay out of the paper these days, huh?" she mused, folding the newspaper and dropped it on the nightstand by her side of the bed. She slid further down in the covers to curl up on her husband's side and slung an arm over his bare torso, lightly tracing the healed scars he got from his missions with the tip of her fingers.

"Seems so," he murmured. He tried to hide the pang of irritation he is getting from the constant mentioning of his best friend. _Why is she suddenly the topic of the day?_

Ginny glanced up at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry peered down at her. "Why ask me that?"

Ginny shrugged. "You just seem like you're distant." She maneuvered her body to be able to straddle him by the waist, her backside firmly pressed down on the front of his sweatpants. "Like you have a lot in your mind."

"Just thinking about some cases," he lied, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted his body upwards to be able to have his back pressed against the headboard and then raised one hand to curl around her neck, bringing her head down to lightly kiss her lips for a moment before he glided his lips leisurely along her jaw. He closed his eyes tightly as he tried to block out his wandering thoughts about his best friends, about a woman who is unattainable, who is married with children. He should not be thinking about her in such a way that was disrespectful to his wife and his brother-in-law. The past is done and the present is their future now. Everything has been set in stone.

He felt her shiver on him as he trailed his hands up her bare thighs, his fingers disappearing underneath the hem of her nightgown. He trembled lightly when she nuzzled her nose into his ear and planted a soft kiss on the sensitive skin just below it.

"You're overworking yourself too much," she breathed against his neck, her hips slowly beginning to shift in a torturously slow circular motion onto his pelvis area while her hands travel down on the exposed skin of his thumping chest to his constricted abdomen. " _Relax_ ," she whispered, her voice releasing an addictive purr that vibrated against the side of his neck, the sensation crawling throughout his upper torso.

A shock shot up in Harry's spine and he was left breathless in violent shivers. "I'm…trying," he grunted lowly, almost growling. He truly was but it was difficult with her ministrations occurring onto him.

"Try… _harder_." She emphasized the word in a teasing manner. She strategically slid down his body, her hands gliding down on his chest before they reached the hem of his sweatpants and dipped her fingers below to also grip on the elastic band of his boxers then tugged them down until he was fully exposed to her.

Harry tried to steady his breathing – and failing miserably – and watched her with silent, lustful eyes as she took him away to a known world full of raw greed and sinful desire.

Unfortunately, his thoughts about Hermione could not seem to stop following him.

* * *

 _Ring! Ring! Ring!_

Harry stirred in his sleep a little upon hearing an indistinguishable noise. His body was still heavy, his muscles were unmotivated for any type of movement. His head was still clouded by a slowly fading fog that had formed from his nightly activity with Ginny earlier. His brow twitched at the irrelevant ruckus that was going off – it sounded close but it would echo distantly.

 _Ring! Ring! Ring!_

"Bloody hell?" he grumbled when he heard the same sound again, slowly opening his eyes. He barely could and ended up just squinting, his vision a blurred sight of colorful dots and a black background. He noticed that the noise halted abruptly and sighed in relief as he turned over to fall back asleep.

 _Ring! Ring! Ring!_

"Oh bugger!" He heard Ginny mumble beside him with equal annoyance. He felt the bed shift along with her weight as she reached for the telephone on the nightstand. He stayed still under the covers as he listened to the clack of the phone and the voice of his wife speaking into the receiver. "Ginny Potter speaking."

"HELLO? HELLO? GINNY – ARE – YOU – THERE?"

It did not take Harry a moment to recognize the loud voice to be Ron's and by the tone he is talking in, he can tell it was urgent. Harry casted a glance over his shoulder, seeing the smudged sight of his wife jumping and holding the receiver a foot away from her ear. He can imagine the alarm expression mingled with aggravation.

"Ron!" she hissed into the mouthpiece. "Talk normally, would you? I can hear you perfectly well without you blasting-" she paused and Harry could hear Ron's voice in a muted volume now, even though he could not make the words. He waited for a moment until he heard Ginny say, "Are you serious?" He jumped a bit by the clear disbelief in her words and slowly sat up as she stayed silent, the voice of her brother sounding staggered now, almost as if he was stumbling over his words. "A-alright, we'll be there…just stay calm…we're heading over right now. Okay, okay bye." She slammed the receiver back to its original place and whirled around to face Harry.

"What's going on?" he asked worriedly.

"It's Hermione…" she started slowly but then paused.

Harry was quick to search for his glasses on his nightstand and pluck them onto his face, his vision becoming sharp in a second. He turned to his wife to see she held a face of anguish and incredulity, her eyes are two bright blue orbs of disorientation. It was never a good sign to see Ginny speechless. Not when her face was pale from all colors.

"What about Hermione?" he demanded, his voice tinged with panic. "What's wrong with her?"

"Harry…" Ginny inhaled sharply and exhaled three terrible words that made Harry's heart faint. "Hermione is gone."

* * *

 **Cliffhanger!**

 **Please Review!**


	6. Love of a Daughter

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned.

 **A:N:** I would love to thank you all for your reviews! I really enjoyed hearing your feedback of this story! If you have any questions for me, don't be afraid to ask me. I'll answer them when I can for you.

By the way, I have nothing against the artist mentioned in the chapter. I'm a huge fan of his music. I was just thinking of him through Hermione's perspective and what she would say about him in her opinion. Okay!

Enjoy!

* * *

 _If I lay here_

 _If I just lay here_

 _Would you lie with me_

 _And just forget the world?_

Chasing Cars; Snow Patrol

* * *

 _"He felt a certain pull between them at that point. And I think he's right. There are moments when [Harry and Hermione] touch, which are charged moments. One when she touches his hair as he sits on a hilltop reading about Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and [two] the moment when they walk out the graveyard with their arms around each other. Now the fact is that Hermione shares moments with Harry that Ron will never be able to participate in. He walked out. She shared something very intense with Harry. So I think it could have gone that way."_

\- JK Rowling

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Love of a Daughter**

Harry did not hesitate to apparate in his pajamas.

He can feel his body tighten under the pressure of the speed limit he used as he blindly whipped across the city of London, increasing the acceleration of his travel in an inhuman rate.

Everything passed by him in a multicolored blur – the large red buses, the faulty streetlights, the honking cars, and the famous Big Ben. Buildings, the gray harbor, and the commonly known London Eye, morphed into one rushed obscure to him as he flung past them. He recall seeing the occasional pair of bright lights of an airplane flying in the opposite direction, but he sped by them with such momentum he could've imagined it.

He pushed himself further through the apparation.

He was not certain if he was heading to the right direction that Ginny told him where Ron was located, and he did not bother to call his best friend for the address. He had seen the St. Thomas Hospital during one of his investigations for the earlier dark wizards and because it was the only medical ward closest to where Ron and Hermione live – he can only hope that his memory of the place was the correct one leading him to them – hoped to know what has happened to Hermione. He knew of nothing else about the hospital but except if he passed Dover St. and Oxford Rd then he went too far and would be heading to The University of Manchester.

When his feet came in contact with concrete, the skin of his heels scrapping painful across the pavement as he stumbled in a few skips until he managed to maintain his balance, he looked up to see he was standing in front of the hospital. It was large and graceful. The walls were painted in a soft. Faded white, the height was above three stories, rectangular and well proportioned. The windows were transparent enough for him to see the occupants inside and their doctors speaking. Some were seen by the reflecting of the descending moon.

Two pops were heard behind him and he knows it is Ginny arriving with Lily.

"Is this the place?" he asked, his voice rough and croaked. He hadn't realized until now that his cheeks were smoothed by the moist texture of his cold tears that leaked from beneath his eyelids and spilled over onto his face. He raised his hand up and wiped his watery eyes beneath his glasses but that did not stop the following tears from overflowing. Nothing could possibly help him right now.

"Yes," Ginny replied, her tone matching his.

The building was hardly active, the lights in the rooms were dimming for the late night, and Harry took this time to look around the open area as he started to walk towards the entrance, searching for a distraction that could ease his running mind until he found Ron.

There was mechanic shop two shops down from the hospital where an employee was seen looking under the hood of a battered Volkswagen Beetle while a man, presumable the owner, stood beside him. Harry frowned at that – it reminded him of the time when Hermione came over to his old apartment in Blackpool, teasing him about his lack of taking care of his car while watching him and Ron give it a quick tune-up.

Further down the street, two women in their early twenties were seen standing in front of Jared Jewelry store, chatting between them while they looked at some necklaces on the window display, and their infants roughly pulling on a stuffed doll. Harry's lips quivered and his eyes were building up a new wall of tears – memories of his play dates with Hermione for Albus and Rose flooded to the front of his mind.

A well-dressed man, in his late forties, walked briskly out of the front entrance where Harry was heading with Ginny and Lily. He was holding a plastic bag in one hand while the other occupied by a black leathery briefcase and he was talking into a phone held between his cheek and shoulder. That just reminded Harry how responsible Hermione is.

Harry growled lowly at all the irony suddenly surrounding him as he opened the front door, holding it open for his wife and daughter, then proceeded to toward the faintly lit reception desk. His ears perked at the distant screams echoing in the far ends of the hallways, the mumbled conversations of the male nurses he passed by, and the squeals of the wheels from any moving stretchers. There was a small lady with honey bright hair and hazel green eyes. She was dressed in a turquoise nurse uniform and was typing in the main computer rapidly. On her ID clipped on her breast pocket identified her as T. Marshal.

"Ron said he's in the third floor," Ginny stated hurriedly, hiking Lily up higher above her hip as she moved her feet hurriedly to match Harry's rapid pace.

And then they were off again. Neither worried about the constant stares they got from the other visitors or nurses and doctors, murmuring amongst themselves about them wearing pajamas at a public area. They ignored them altogether. Around the corner, elevators were waiting, and Harry dashed forward, throwing his hand between the closing doors of the full elevator going up. He let his wife and daughter enter first before he squeezed in beside the irritated passengers, and checked to make sure that the button for level two had been pushed. It was already lit, and the doors closed.

As soon as the doors opened they were off again, the annoyed mumbling behind them not going unnoticed. Harry had to slow down as he passed the many female and male nurses pushing patients around in their wheelchairs, only to break into a run again to the corner of the corridors. He was detached from Ginny and Lily from a few feet away, already too far for them to catch up.

Along the curb, Harry nearly tumbled over an empty stretcher because he wasn't looking where he was going – he had been too occupied in his thoughts. But when he reached another hallway, the scene of solemn. Ron was sitting on a bench by the wall next to a door, fidgeting, and next to him was a woman who had dark grown hair tied back in a high messy ponytail, a pair of striking green eyes that were glistening in unshed tears, and her skin was pale although she looked tan if compared to Ron's complexion. She was shorter next to Ron even though they are seated. Harry recognized her to be Hermione's mother.

"Ron!" Harry huffed, lightly jogging up to them. "I'm here."

Ron snapped his head up and swiftly stood up from the bench. Mrs. Granger did not move from her position. Harry can feel a bridge to her concern over Hermione like a gust of wind. She was truly terrified for her only daughter.

Ron's bright blue eyes were clouded with jumbling emotions. "Harry, it's about time you got here. I thought I called-"

"Where's Hermione?" Harry blurted out, not letting himself feel guilty for interrupting him on the spot like that. He can hear Mrs. Granger quietly sobbing on the side and the sound brought a wave of anxiety in him.

"I…" Ron hesitated. Then he sighed and lowered his head. "I don't know."

"What?" Harry's eyes widen in disbelief. "What do you mean you don't know? How could you not know where your own _wife_ is?"

"I just don't know!" Ron said.

Scrambling footsteps were heard pattering on the tiled floors as Ginny approached them with Lily captive in her arms. She let her daughter on her feet and Lily immediately went to her tearful grandmother concernedly.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, glancing between the two males with a worrisome stare. She can see Harry is agitated by how his jaw was clenched with his gritted teeth and Ron was somewhat shameful by how deep his frown was curled and his eyes were deep in colored disappointment.

"Just let me explain, okay," Ron said quickly.

"What's going on, Ron?" Ginny repeated.

Ron exhaled. "For the past two weeks, Hermione's dad has been hospitalized. He suffered from a stroke and later was experiencing a really high fever. He was about 42.3 C last time we saw him."

Harry's mouth snapped open at this in shock and a bit of hurt. Two weeks? The same amount of time he had not spoken or seen Hermione. He had thought that she was invisible to him because of her case as he had read in the newspaper and she probably was but she had never mentioned to him about her father becoming ill. It pained him that she had bothered to talk to him about this. She always went to him to talk about her problems in order to find a solution in them and to vent out her frustrations whenever she had a heated discussion with Ron about something irrelevant just to cool down enough to speak to him again. He could not believe that she did not come to him about her father. How could she not include him? It irked him.

"We just got a ring from the Muggle doctor who's taking care of him – Dr. Caauwe, I think her name is," Ron explained. "Anyway, it happened when we went to visit them. I wanted her to get away from her work so I figured it be best to take her back home for a while. Everything was fine and all but when Hermione's dad went to get biscuits for Hugo, we heard a crash. When we went to check it out, he was found on the floor. We took him here after that."

Mrs. Granger's sobs seem to increase by the story that Harry presumed to have been retold many times before them, and Lily was trying to comfort the woman by wrapping her arms around her shoulders and softly whispering into her ear. But the elder woman's tears did not seem to reduce under her attempts.

"Oh dear," Ginny whispered before she went to sit by Mrs. Granger and join her daughter. She glanced up at her older brother. "Where's Hugo?"

"With mum." Ron turned to Harry. "We think he must have hit his head hard when he fell," Ron murmured quietly to Harry to not upset his mother-in-law any further. "He had nasty gash over his head and he bled a lot. Doctors had to give him surgery to make sure his head wasn't cracked open in any way and had him sedated since then."

Harry swallowed to keep calm. "And Hermione?" he asked. He know he should be concern over an in-law of his, especially when it is a parent of his best friend, but he could not really make his mind focus on anything else but her. Seeing every member of her family presented in front of him and her being the only one excluded did not tame his nerves.

"She was the one who answered the phone," Ron answered. "She apparated after that. I thought she came here but when I didn't see her anywhere and asked her mum if she came by, she never showed. I was worried and searched for her in any places she would be in whenever she wants to be alone." Ron grimaced. "And I mean I searched _everywhere_ , Harry – rivers, parks, and even libraries. _Libraries!_ Those places are literally her sanctuary and she wasn't found there."

Harry roughly ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sharp breath as he tried to process in all the information. The blow of Ron's words was enough to finally knock the breath out of him. He can feel an agonizing sensation physically claw its way to his heart, shredding it apart like it was just a plain piece of paper, and then repeated on his fragile lungs. The dam that he built to hold in his raging emotions was breaking, the cracks connecting together and streaks of water sprayed out. He bit his lip as he heaved in heavy breaths. _Hermione was missing_. No matter how many times he said it to himself, he could not believe it.

"I even checked at the Ministry," Ron said. "Her office was locked and off. I asked one of her assistants – Julie, I think her name is – if she saw Hermione anywhere but she told me she hasn't seen her since she clocked out."

Harry hesitated and his fingers twitched, indecisive on whether he should engulf Ron in a hug in an attempt to comfort him or to just stay still. He can hear the disappointment wrapped in Ron's words and his face painted over by a mask of petrified concern made Harry feel pity for him. For him to hear his father-in-law suffering a horrible condition and the disappearance of his wife adding up to the list was too much to handle in one night for any man no matter how strong minded they can be. He wanted to assure the ginger male for better things but he was never good at showing his feelings so openly.

Either way, the moment would have been cut short by the sound of a door clicking open and Harry turned to see a female in a long white coat. She was short to him, absolutely five feet tall, not entirely curvy like most women are, with a black pixie haircut. She held a childish charm that she never seemed to have grown out of. She looked like she was still young enough to be attending in college. Her ID informed her name to be Elizabeth Caauwe.

"Are you family of one Aegeus Granger?" she asked them.

"Yes sir," Ron answered while Mrs. Granger straightened up and stood on her feet with Ginny. Her arm was being held by Lily out of nerves. "How is he?"

Dr. Caauwe sighed softly, pursing her lips as she rubbed a hand across the side of her neck, her eyes avoiding the hopeful ones of the family by analyzing the clipboard that Harry assumed to be Mr. Granger's charts.

"We're doing everything we can. His body temperature is still at its maximum rate. I'm surprised that he is still breathing," she said gruffly. "Right now, we're keeping his temperature from getting any higher by turning up the air in his room and putting icepacks all over his body. He has been sweating a lot lately."

Mrs. Granger lets out a shaky breath. "Is that all? A high fever?"

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Caauwe goes on, shaking her head. "From your reports of the incident he had, it seems like his head came across with a very hard collision during his fall and…" she paused, hesitant, staring at Mrs. Granger's tear stained face with a grim expression.

"And what?" Ginny questioned before Harry could.

Dr. Caauwe sighed. "You may want to come inside."

Without waiting for them, Mrs. Granger reached for the door, nearly smacking into the hard metal as she briskly walked inside, and the others trailed after her closely. Harry was the last to enter, but then he found a sickening, gruesome sight on the other side of the door that completely paralyzed him on the spot, and his brain exploded from an overdrive.

The room was quiet, side from the beeping of the heart monitor – a sound that Harry assumed brought out relief in Hermione's mother – the faint bluish light of the cloudy night spilled through the small opening that the curtains allowed. The air in the room made him shiver. This place could be mistaken for a death tomb.

What Harry saw on the eastern side of the room, where a crowded bed was occupied by one patient, had brought new fresh stings into Harry's heart for Hermione and his blood to suddenly become ice.

Aegeus Granger looked terrible. His skin was chalky pale and his shaggy brown hair had lost its volume. He was breaking out in a fountain of sweat from his head to the tip of his toes and the bottom of his eyes was in a dark shadow, almost like he was done recovering from a broken nose. There were multiple icepacks placed on his body as the doctor said. He had an air tube taped to his nose, a needle struck into the bend of his arm with a long tube that connected to an IV bag. There were wires taped to his chest, and the monitor beeped steadily.

Harry watched pitifully at Mrs. Granger as she raised one hand to Mr. Granger's face but then hesitated. He figured she was afraid to tangle up the tubes and wires.

"He doesn't look like he's breathing," Ron murmured quietly. Harry heard a light slap and he pictured Ginny giving him a scolding smack across his head.

Harry turned to Dr. Caauwe to face her. She stood at the front of the bed, the chart still in hand, an unreadable expression masked over her face as she stared down at Aegeus.

"Is he going to be okay?" Harry asked.

Her dark eyes furrowed. "I'm afraid his conditions are far worse to be just another fever."

Harry tried to remain calm. "How…how worse?"

Dr. Caauwe's mouth opened then closed. And opened again. "Mr. Granger is…in a coma."

Harry could have sworn he heard a glass shattering at the sound of Mrs. Granger's intake of breath and his ears stung by the piercing dry sobs surfacing from her. He can hear Lily whispering to her to not cry whilst Ginny murmured for her to remember to take deep breaths but he never turned around to face the woman.

"C-coma?" Ron choked out, barely managing to speak out that poisonous word. Harry did not notice when he had come to his side. "As in…comatose? A-a deep sleep coma?"

Dr. Caauwe nodded, her eyes sorrowful. "I'm afraid so."

Then she place the clipboard on a table and walked to the lightboard on the wall above Mr. Granger's unmoving head before she turned it on. There were two x-ray results on; one of Mr. Granger's skull to the side while the other was his frontal lobe.

"If you look at his x-rays very closely right here," she pointed at the small crack marked down on the side of the skull, "this shows to be the reason of Mr. Granger's incident."

Mrs. Granger felt her knees wobble so she backed herself up against an empty bed and sat down weakly. Ron took this moment to walk up to his mother-in-law and rest his hand tentatively on her shoulder in a supporting manner.

"It seems like when he fell, the collision had a large impact on his head – as you can see from the crack – which it moved the brain within the skull, causing the brain to hit the interior of the skull opposite to the head impact."

Harry kept his eyes on the lightboard; he did not want to look at Mrs. Granger as she inhaled deeply, pausing for a moment to gulp down the lump that had formed in her throat. More tears were brimming at her eyes.

"We've ran various tests on him to find out what was the cause of his temperature suddenly becoming high, but he cannot find any results," she continued. "For now, we came to conclude that it must be an allergic reaction or disease that he must have caught or that can be genetically passed down by any of his relatives."

Harry finally managed to pluck up the courage to approach Mrs. Granger and lay a hand on one shoulder, giving it a small yet firm squeeze.

"Unfortunately," Dr. Caauwe sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes. "Since we do not know what are the reasons of his body temperature getting high then we can't cure it right away and that is very dangerous for Mr. Granger's health at his age."

Mrs. Granger's body shook in trembles beneath Harry's hand and he gave her another squeeze. He can hope that Ron thought about doing the same.

Dr. Caauwe opened her eyes. "If his body temperature were to get higher then it will increase the process of all his organs to a rate that they might explode," she said. "If they fail then he will be put on life support or he will die."

Harry's lips part in shock and Mrs. Granger fell over as she finally released her waters, letting out gasped sobs. Harry could not believe the outcome of tonight; Hermione's father was dying. He would not only be in a coma, he will be put to rest permanently. He will never wake up again if they don't find a cure. It explained her unreadable and unresponsive behavior towards him. She had been avoiding him to cope with the fact of her father's possible death. She was losing a parent and she knew it – she just did not know how to react to it.

Harry briefly glanced at Ron. The ginger-haired man's eyes were glowing with the reflection of the ceiling lights shining off the tears that had welled up in his eyes. He could only think how awful his best friend could feel, too. He had lost a family member before, an older identical twin brother who loved to terrorize him for laughs yet protect him with love, and he still hasn't fully recovered from the scar in his heart he got from Fred's death. Now he was losing a man who is a second father to him. His wounds must be reopened from this visit.

"Ron," Harry whispered, nudging him with his free hand to gain his attention. His bright blue eyes glistened even after his silent tears escaped onto his face. "Come with me. We need to talk."

Ron paused then glanced at Mrs. Granger; his sister was kneeled in front of her, quietly whispering to the broken woman, and Lily was seated on her grandmother's lap with her arms wrapped around her slumped shoulders whilst her head laid upon her shoulder, her face buried in the tousled brown whirlwind of knots. Seeing as his mother-in-law was accompanied greatly by humble people, he touched Mrs. Granger's shoulder before he slipped away and followed Harry back out into the hallway.

"What is it?" he asked.

Harry turned to Ron. "We need to find Hermione."

"How?" Ron wondered. "I told you – I've searched _everywhere_."

"Well, she can't just be erased from the face of the earth like that," Harry countered. "Maybe you didn't search everywhere like you thought. But we have to find her. She needs to be here – her mum needs her more than ever."

"You think I don't know that?" Ron frowned then sighed as he rubbed his face with his hands, trailing them behind his head to settle them on the nape of his neck. "What do you suggest we do then?"

"We search on grounds we least expect her to be," Harry said. "She could be in the lowest places of London right now."

"That sounds so unlike her," Ron muttered. "Would make sense of her to be there now that you mention it. She must have known I'd never look for her in those rowdy places. Smart witch, she is."

Harry actually managed to crack a tiny smile at Ron's remark. He could not argue with him about that one aspect that came with Hermione. She is a bright witch even when she doesn't try.

"But if she is hiding in the lowest place by now, I doubt she'd go somewhere dodgy," Ron pointed out. "She's smart but not irrational. So I doubt she'd be in a pub or anything close to that. She hates those places. She even gets shirty with me whenever I go to one."

"Well, I wasn't really suggesting something like a pub," Harry said. "I was thinking of places similar to Knockturn Alley."

Ron nodded, his eyes uneasy and glazed over with doubt. Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and firmly squeezed.

"We'll find her," he said assuredly. He did not know if it was meant for it to be for Ron or for himself. "Right now it would be best if we searched both worlds. We can find her faster if one of us goes to the wizarding world while the other stays here. Ginny will stay here with Carol in the meantime."

"I'll go to start off at Diagon Alley," Ron insisted quickly. "Maybe someone might have seen her around."

Harry nodded. "Alright."

"Send me a Patronus if you find her, mate," Ron said. "I need to know she's okay."

"I will."

Ron stared at Harry for a moment, searching for any signs of uncertainty or lack of faith. But Harry knew he would not find any on him. He was positive and his confident on their search was unyielding because finding Hermione was substantial to him as much as it is to Ron. He had nothing to fear when it came to Harry's determination.

After a moment, Ron resigned and disapparated, leaving Harry alone in his thoughts.

Harry took the minute to close his eyes and think. He already had a place in mind as soon as Hermione wedged into the atmosphere; he thought about the Forest of Dean. The place where she had apparated them to during the war and had went to for a camping trip that her parents took her once. He figured she must be hidden in places that resembled a memory of her father and that is one of the many places she told him she went to with both of her parents.

He started to picture the details he could remember from his last visit; frozen white bark turned into mud brown, iced leaves melted into loose green, snowy ground dissolved into rocky pebbles, and the lake he swam into to become a pool of water once again. He imagined the sun being hailed in the sky like a god by the grateful forest as he casts a radiance of golden lights over the area. A beautiful heaven.

Then Harry disapparated.

* * *

She looked over the hard edge to see her reflection staring back at her with those same empty eyes she has been wearing for the past few hours. They were dreadful, lacking in color that would be shone under radiance and the same light that would always glint off whenever her pupils dilated in adrenaline but right now they were shut off as if a switch had been flickered. That was not the woman she had grown up to be. She felt time shift around her back to the past as she continued to stare at those depressing eyes. She was the same little girl on her first year in Hogwarts, covering her face with her bushy hair inside a stall, listening to herself sob in frustration and agony at the neglecting words used to describe her for who she is.

The pain of being ridiculed publicly by a bunch of other little boys was nothing compared to the numb constriction she has in her chest. She was broken, abandoned. She felt truly alone. Before, she had friends, she had chances of making friends, and her wishes came true the moment Harry and Ron came bursting into the girl's bathroom. She was pushed to the ground before they became her best friends but she never felt alone and it wasn't because she was in a castle full of other children in the same age as her – she just knew that she was not left by herself. Her answers to escape from utter loneliness came from those two boys she came to love unconditionally and purely.

But right now, she felt like there was no one around her. Not spiritually or emotionally. She just felt the cold breeze of the night accompany her from time to time. She could smell the pollution of the cars in the city traveling along with the air, could almost taste the grease of the fast food restaurants still open nearby. There were some laughter heard far from where she is but she did not have to worry about being in any harm's way by how faint they sounded. She had left her wand back at her home so she was in no mood to be caught in unnecessary conflict.

She dipped her finger in the water, creating a small ripple that deformed the reflection of her face and she felt relieved to not see the mirrored sadness staring up at her. She turned away from the water and sighed, lifting her feet an inch away from the grass to lightly dangle them over the strands, feeling them tickling the balls of her feet as they caressed the skin. She did not bother to put on her slippers in her haste – she just left as soon as the phone was placed on her ear and she heard the familiar voice speak in the other end of the line. She had fled away. She felt ashamed of herself for such a cowardice reaction of the situation, but it was her first instinct she felt and she acted upon it without another thought.

Soon, her mind was showered by images of dark brown eyes, shaggy brown hair, and slightly pale skin. She closed her eyes as she shook her head, trying to push out those small features of her father. Thinking about him was starting to make it hard for her to collect her thoughts or to breathe calmly again. The familiar emptiness in her chest was getting uncomfortable. She stood up from her spot and stretched her arms over her head, letting out a small grunt as she loosened her stiff muscles. She glanced back down at the water and felt her throat swollen up with emotion as the sight of her twelve-year-old self watched her with an unreadable expression. She was beginning to envy her past self now. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes again.

"Hermione?" a husky voice was heard calling out behind her not too far away but not too close either. She felt herself relax at the sound of it.

Hermione opened her eyes and turned around to find herself facing her best friend. He was standing there rigidly with his hands stuffed inside the pocket of his baggy sweatpants and a black tank top. From her spot, she can see goose bumps dotted on his arms and he was fighting off the cold of the British night sky.

"Harry," she whispered almost inaudible. She was shocked to say the least that he was solidly there in front of her in the one place she had not expected him to set foot on. She had not expected anybody to be here.

"You're one wicked witch, you know that? Disappearing without a trace like that," he said casually as he walked towards her, slowly as if to not scare her away from his sudden presence. His face was flushed from exertion, his lips were chapped from the dense air, and his eyes held crusted dust by the corners.

Hermione would have laughed at his comment but she did not have the heart to. "How did you find me?" she asked. He had already reached her and he was leaning against the fountain she was sitting on for the past few hours alone, contemplating and wondering in her own thoughts.

"It wasn't easy," he murmured, shrugging his shoulders. "I searched for you everywhere you'd be at when you want to be alone. Some of those places were the same where Ron went to. I even went to the Forest of Dean where you took us years ago because it seemed like a reasonable place for you to run off too and then I went to the theatre in Shaftsbury Avenue after that. I went to all the places you mentioned."

Hermione went to Harry's side and perched herself on the edge of the fountain with a sigh, tentatively placing her hands on her lap. "So how did you find me?" she repeated. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Because you're Hermione Granger," he smirked. "I was in a café when I thought to myself that whenever you have a doubt, you used to always go to the library. You still do. But Ron never found you in any of the libraries. Then I realized those are all _public_ libraries he may have gone to so I thought maybe you'd be in a place where there is a private library and high education. Somewhere where your intelligence is challenged." He peered over to her. "I'd be lying if I said this was my first guess to come to but I'm just glad I thought about it or I wouldn't have found you."

Hermione stared at Harry with appreciation and respect for his insight on her. His life being an Auror had improved his observations in people sharply and his quick thinking too has gotten to an impressive rate. She knew that Ron would try to find her in the most obvious places in London or in the wizarding world because it would be basic of her to do so and she had also thought she would have fooled Harry into following her husband's footsteps but she needed to remember that he was not actually easy to trick nowadays. He always proved how well he knew her and how lucky she was to have someone like him to even want to know a thing about her – he was really her best friend from the start, he was her guardian angel.

"So," Harry started again, his eyes sweeping across the area with piqued interest. "University of Cambridge. Why here?"

Hermione broke her gaze on him to look around the opened campus, taking in the marvelous sight of the beautifully structured buildings surrounding them, seeing the designed windows of the classrooms of all levels, the small towers pointed at the top, and the deep green paths of endless grass. The color of the brick walls were faded, almost gone from many years passed. The windows and doors were either part of the original construction or they were a perfect restoration, Hermione never knew. She and Harry were the only ones in sight. She could hear gentle waters close by, hidden beyond the walls of the university.

"Did you by any chance stumble upon a river on your way here?" she questioned.

Harry nodded, his eyes staring at her intently. "The River Cam."

"That's the one," Hermione said. She lowered her head as a weak smile formed on her lips. "My father used to take me there when I was little and we'd ride on the boats there. He would tell me about his days here and how he met my mum. Did I ever tell you that they resented each other at first?"

Harry shook his head wordlessly.

"It's a bit ironic now if you think about it," Hermione laughed. "My parent's history being repeated with me and Ron. I didn't expect that to happen." She was quiet for a long moment, staring ahead at the silhouette of the building casted over the grass. "My father wanted me to enroll here when I was of age."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," she replied. "It was before I was discovered I was a witch that he used to tell me how he sees me attending here, studying psychology and political science. Almost every Sunday, he'd take me out here for the boats or to give me a proper tour of the campus – I think I know every nook and cranny of this place by now because of him. Every time he'd tell me the same stories without realizing it and his hopes for me in the future but I'd never get tired of listening to him. He always made me feel special of who I am."

Harry remained silent. He was actually fascinated by Hermione's history with her parents since she hardly ever spoke about her life before Hogwarts. She was a private person when it came to details about herself and he respected that but it would leave him in a jumbled mess of curiosity in what she could have possibly hidden about herself from him.

Hermione bit her lip. She stayed quiet for another minute before she said, "I was bullied a lot."

Harry's eyes widen. _What?_

"When I thought I was just a Muggle, all the kids in primary school were very irked by me," she explained, her voice low and slow now. "They did not fancy the fact that I was always ahead of them in every subject or always get high marks in every exam or have every homework answered correctly. They would constantly tease me, abuse me physically and verbally during breaks, and even force me to do their work for them at the last minute. When I didn't reach their expectations, they would shove me in a locker and leave me there until the end of the day or they forget I was even there. The teachers would find me, of course. Although they had gotten in trouble for what they do to me, they come back ten times worse. They went as far as to ripping my one of my favorite books that was given to me by my grandfather before he passed away. My mum had to tape it back together even though she had gotten some pages mixed up."

Harry's knuckles cracked as he clenched his hands into fists inside his pockets. This was the first time he has ever heard about Hermione's abuse and he did not like it. Who would even consider harming this wonderful, considerate woman?

Hermione noticed his strict reaction and shook her head with a sigh. "No need to go nutters over it, Harry. Kids at that age are usually ignorant and selfish."

"Still doesn't change that they did those awful things to you," he muttered, his voice dark and raw.

"I agree but it's all in the past now," she sighed. "I hardly remember them."

Harry nodded. He did not speak any further. He did not trust his voice right now that his judgment is clouded by raging red for those unknown children who had made this caring and bashful woman to suffer for their horrid needs to feel good about themselves. She was a kid just like them and she was defenseless against them. They knew that and took advantage of it. He can only wish he had been there to send a snake on them like he had done to Dudley at the zoo.

"Anway," Hermione began. "My mum considered transferring me to a different school when she learned about me being bullied but my father decided to take me out for a walk. He took me to the River Cam and right there he told me how he thought about me." She let out a quick laugh though it was weak and small. "I remembered what he said to me. He said _Hermione, darling…I know everything seems hard now for you but that's a good thing that you're struggling. It means you have a mind greater than any of those kids. The world's greatest minds were never truly acknowledged until they made a difference in the world. But you…you will be going so far in life. You already are and that is why they're envious of you. They want to catch up but know they can't because they aren't special as you are._ "

"Then he is a brilliant man," Harry mumbled.

"Yeah, he is," Hermione said. "He knew I was different. I have a feeling he knew I was more than just a Muggle. Makes me wonder if what Professor Slughorn asked me could be true that I could be related to Dagworth-Granger. It would explain very well how I became a Muggle-born. There could be a possibility that there was a Squib in my family and now that I think about it, maybe my father was a Squib."

"What would make you think that?" Harry asked.

"Because when I started to have accidental magical bursts around the age of nine or ten, he did not react as surprisingly as my mother did," Hermione answered. "He didn't treat me any different. He just took me here like he always did whenever I got bullied and told me more stories about his days. I remember he bought baked fish and a bag of crisps – a bit odd coming from a dentist if I may add. But he acted normal like I didn't just levitate that day's supper to the ceiling and that calmed me down. I was glad that I wasn't seen as the freak I felt I was because I did. He never made me feel like I was one, he just talked and acted like I was just his daughter, not some witch."

She exhaled softly as she tilted her head to the side of rest it upon Harry's trembling shoulder, her eyes darting across the field.

" _Plain and same has been around for many generations that is it completely worn out…But originality and individuality is where the real magic is at_ ," she said. "That is what my father told me when I asked him about my magic."

Harry turned his head to the side to lay it on top of Hermione's. He felt his arm twitch when her fingers slides into the crook of his elbow, her nails clutching onto him as she held his arm close to her. Another hand came to lie on his forearm, fingertips caressing the tendons beneath there and then halted into a stop to firmly grasp onto it. He did not resist her but he could not ignore the tingles that came from the soothing touches of her fingers and the vibrant shivers of her skin colliding with his goose bumps.

"He treated me like I was someone special," Hermione murmured. "Not because I was born with magic but because of who I am before that."

"It's because you are," Harry said before he can stop himself. He felt her head shift upwards and a weight of her eyes settled on him. He was starting to feel self-conscious by the pressure of her gaze. "You're brilliant even without magic. I'm sure of that."

Hermione smiled tenderly at him, her eyes glimmering in pure aspiration and magnetism. A butterfly of thankfulness fluttered in her stomach. "Thank you, Harry."

He grunted in response.

Then Hermione released her hold around Harry's arm and pushed onto her feet. She turned to Harry as she held out her hand, her eyes politely asking him to receive, and he did take it in his while he rose to his feet. She wrapped her arms around his again and her head returned to his shoulder.

"Walk with me?"

Harry nodded silently and took the first step forward to begin their walk.

It was less chilly now, the warmth of the upcoming day slowly creeping into the atmosphere, almost melting away the remains of an icy night. Hermione had to pull off the transparent robe and knotted it around her nightgown by the waist before taking Harry's arm again. She did not notice Harry's eyes quickly scan over her, appraising how the silk material seem to make her curves more pronounced by how her hips swerved with the rhythm of her steps.

They were silent for the rest of the walk. Crickets can be heard singing among the grass, some frogs were in the mix by the river close by, and the flowing waters of the fountain they are leaving behind is also ringing in their ears as they trudged throughout the campus. Neither seemed to be bothered at the fact that they were clad in their pajamas in a public area or that they were not wearing any footwear either so they can feel the moist grass strands of the open field and the rough path of the hallways but they never complained. They just kept exploring mindlessly in the university.

The hike had taken Harry more time than he anticipated, but there was no sense of impatience in him. He followed Hermione to all the directions she knew from her father, listening to her explain what room is built for, what classes would be taught. She never let go of his arm and her head never left his shoulder, which he was glad behind her loose curls were what kept it warm. Even if she did, he would probably held her during their walk in order to comfort her because he knew she needed it – she had told him through body language, but she did not know that. He was willing to hear her chatter away contently about her stories with her father. It reminded him of the first time they'd walk together, except now he was a foot taller than her and she held no trait of her eleven-year-old self.

As she spoke, Harry wondered back the past two weeks. About the newspaper article. About her sudden disappearance. About her being secretive about her father. About everything. He know that he should have his mind focused on healing Hermione from the pain of the situation occurring in her family, on making her feel better enough to take her to the hospital where the others were waiting for her to still arrive, but he could not seem to let those days slip past him like he normally does. It really did hurt Harry to not be included in what events are happening in her life. Now he knew how Ron felt whenever he and Hermione were in sync without him. It was horrible to be left out so precipitously.

When they came across the closed front entrance of the campus, Harry stopped in a halt and turned to Hermione, who was staring up at him wondrously with a quizzical brow arched up.

"What's wrong?" she inquired.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Harry did not beat around the bush. "You didn't let me know anything that was happening…why?"

Hermione took a long minute to stare at him with those two eyes that seem to have lighten up into a bronze color beneath the sparkling of the moonlight shined onto them, the dark circles of her pupils now definite and detailed. He never knew that he could actually see the depths of one's eyes until now; he could see hers held such purity that could never seem to be tainted by the harsh reality of her life and a strong curiosity for the world that never seems to be answered no matter how hard she searched. They were marvelous, captivating even. How could he have not seen this from the many times he locked gazes with her?

Finally, she said in a small voice, "I didn't want to worry you."

Harry snorted. "You didn't do a good job at it. I haven't heard from you since you interrogated Rowle and I was right gutted to have to learn from the _Daily Prophet_ on what you've been up to and to have a rude ring from Ron nearly at midnight to hear you disappeared entirely. I was going mad over you but now I'm just upset."

"All because I was doing you a favor to not stress you any more than you already are?" Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. She released his arm and took a step away from him as she crossed her arms. "I see I've done nothing wrong of the sort."

"Of course you don't," he said, slightly defensive. "But you did when you left me in the dark like that. You even took some of my officers to escort you to the Rowle Manor and without my consent, too. I am included in the case too, 'Mione – he is under _my_ custody still. Do you know how bad it looks on me when you went to the manor that was once owned by the parents of the suspect _I_ arrested? The media is probably having a field day with that. It could be one of the reasons aside from Ginny's articles why Cuffe is throwing a celebration."

"I asked your second-in-command, Grumps, for those escorts so technically I did have the consent from your department, Harry," Hermione shot back calmly. "I know you're part of the case too but you already did your part when you captured Rowle and still keeping him under control until the court date due. My part of this case doesn't necessarily need you." She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. "As for the article…you obviously didn't read it all the way. The day I went to the Rowle Manor, you were doing your own escort to Scotland so you don't need to worry about the media damaging your image as Chief Auror. You know how inaccurate the _Daily Prophet_ can be with these things. They sell what the people want to hear, not for solid facts."

Harry became silent.

"Yes, Harry, I knew you were in Scotland at the time. I keep my ears more opened around the Ministry than you think. So I asked Grumps for the escorts," she said. "I wanted you to come with me, of course. I am aware he is still your prisoner, not just my suspect. But I couldn't wait for you to come back now could I? I needed to search the house as soon as possible if I want to have proof. It was important and I took the first opportunity I saw. I'm sorry if I disrespected your authority in any way but I'm not sorry of my actions."

Harry scrutinized her, perusing the tiny frown on her forehead and the twitch on her frowned lips, taking in the same signs that expressed the annoyance she felt towards him. He can sense the slowly rising anger surfacing from her through her piercing amber eyes and the contentment she was caught in earlier was now burned into disappointment for him. He let out a sigh and lowered his gaze as he scratched his head sheepishly.

"It's not just that, Hermione," Harry mumbled. "It's the fact that you didn't try to tell me when I got back. You didn't tell me anything at all. I was going to let it go but then Ron called and said you were gone. He couldn't find you anywhere tonight. Then I learned about your father being hospitalized for two weeks. I…" he sputtered. "I was…upset – no, _worried_. Of your father and most importantly of you, too. I didn't know anything about you and for me to hear you're suddenly gone…I…I never felt so stressed like that in my life. I wasn't this overboard with Voldemort."

Hermione's hard face slowly softened, her stone eyes now melting away the roughness of her stare into liquid pools of compassion as she watched Harry shuffling his feet over the grass, lightly picking the tiny pebbles and stuffing his hands in his pockets. He did not look up to her and she felt a pang of regret over her lecture on him. She did not mean to be inconsiderate of him, she was just too preoccupied with her scattered mind and her emotions that have been jumbling around her like a tornado that she does not know how to gain any control on them anymore. She knew that he was worried about her at some point for the past few days because she was pondering about him too especially whenever he went on a mission, and she had missed him dearly than ever. She felt incomplete not knowing his activities but her job was a silent proof box to all that is outside the case. She did not know what was going on out of her office and no one knew what she was doing inside.

"You're my best friend," Harry said and Hermione nearly gasped out as a flashback of those words entered her head – her confiding in Harry on her heart being broken by witnessing Ron kissing Lavender openly and freely to those who are watching and him being her shoulder for her to cry on. It was a wonderful memory of theirs that she held onto because it was a reminder of her on how lucky she is to have him there for her when she needs someone even when she does not voice it out. He always remembers her when no one else does.

"It's bad enough that we hardly see each other nowadays. I never see Ron anymore until tonight," Harry continued. "And even though you and I work at the same place, we still don't see each other often. At least I get to hear about you and what you've done through others – I'm perfectly fine with that. But when you disappeared like that…I just…It felt awful, Hermione. Unbearable, even. I didn't like feeling you weren't in my life anymore."

"Oh Harry…" Hermione stepped closer to him and pulled him into her arms, her chin set on his broad shoulder as she gently rubbed his back with one hand while the other slowly stroked his untidy hair. She felt him shudder as he lowered his head onto her shoulder, his forehead placed in the crook of her neck, the rims of his glasses digging into the skin of her juncture that felt somewhat painful, and her chest was being pressed tightly to his when his arms grasped onto her frame almost strongly. From this, she can hear the _I miss you_ he is telling her indirectly and she felt herself shake by the wave of guilt that washed over her. He was scared for her and it was her fault.

She gave his cheek a sweet kiss before she pressed her lips on his shoulder. "I missed you too, Harry, I really did," she whispered softly. "I know how you feel. Sometimes I wonder how we're so distant now. We grew up together. You, me, and Ron – we all did. It's sad to see how we are now." She felt him nod into her neck. "I didn't mean to keep you in the dark like that…I thought I was doing you a favor because I know you're breaking your neck for those Death Eaters and Snatchers…I didn't want to add more to your list."

"You should know by now that no matter what I'm doing, I'm always going to take time to be there," Harry muttered, his breath cascading her throat and blowing away some of her stands of hair from his face as he spoke, "After twenty-six years, you-"

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I can't help it. Old habits die hard."

Harry laughed, sliding one hand up on her back and stopping behind her shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles. "Just don't be afraid to come to me for these things. We're not just mates anymore, we're family."

"I promise."

Harry pulled back from her, making her do the same and raised one hand up between them, his pinkie finger standing tall. He still held her close with his other arm wrapped around her waist. He grinned childishly, "Promise?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, a smile clear on her face. "Really?"

"Old habits die hard," he repeated her words with a sly smirk.

Hermione laughed lightly at the irony. She brought a hand up to wrap her pinkie finger around his, noticing for the second that his was large enough to cover hers almost entirely and that the roughness of his skin scratched the smoothness of hers. It must have gotten that way from his many hours of training with the novices and his long-term missions traveling outside of Britain. She looked at him directly in the eyes with a glint of mischievous in hers and she smiled sarcastically.

"I solemnly swear to you, Harry James Potter, that I will keep my promise," she pledged.

"That's all I ask," he grinned, the infectious sensibility of his relief making her return the gesture. He combed back his hair with his hand. "So how about we head to the hospital? Everyone is waiting for us."

The grin fell from Hermione's face. "Not yet."

"You need to go there at some point, you know."

"I know. Just not now."

"Then what are you going to do for _just now_?

Hermione pondered for a minute. She glanced around the field, her eyes glittering then dimming as she roamed over the buildings. She pictured her younger self skipping along the short grass with her father contently watching her from afar as she freed herself from her struggles and troubles. She remembered the feeling of letting go of the world she once lived in; she was never brought back to what once made her think she was a waste of space or an abnormal mistake whenever her father took her away. He was like a shield to what is intended to harm her soul, to break down her willpower, and to tear her down in general. Those kids are what tried to do that to her and he never let them. He never allowed her to be affected.

Harry was beginning to grow anxious by her silence. "Hermione?"

"I got one more place I want to go to." She turned to him. "After that, we'll go to the hospital."

"Where?"

"You'll see." She held out her hand. "Do you trust me?"

Harry stared at her incredulously for a moment before shaking his head and accepting her hand, chuckling lowly, "As if you need to ask."

Hermione rolled her eyes before she closed them. A moment later, she was being whipped through the air with Harry pressed against her side, their bodies leaving behind a trail of wind that flowed through the grass strands.

* * *

When they landed heavily, Harry firstly noticed his feet were throbbing painfully by the gravel that made him wince loudly.

"Sorry," he heard Hermione said sheepishly as he rose one foot up to rub the heel with his hand. "I forgot we weren't wearing shoes."

"It's alright," he grumbled.

Once he soothed his aching foot, Harry glanced around the new area where Hermione had apparated them to. The first thing he noticed was a house; it was built in brown bricks up to three floors, white windows, and the front yard was almost covered in many trees – some shredded from their leaves and bare in only branches – and many perfectly trimmed bushes. There was also a stoned garage with a white door. In front of it was a series of tire marks, as if someone had drifted out of the spot in a hurry. That's when Harry knew they were at Hermione's old home.

Quietly, Hermione walked through the small patch of grass of the front yard towards the front door and Harry followed without a fight, secretly curious but did not speak of it. The porch light was on, letting him being able to see the gentler shades of Hermione's hair as she stood beneath the illumination, and also the slightly redden skin on the top of her exposed shoulders like she had been burned. He wondered how long she had been in the sun today.

"Harry, can I borrow your wand?" Hermione asked politely.

"Uh…" Harry quickly began to pat on himself from the chest downwards before he felt the outline of his wand in the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled it out to hand it to her.

"Cheers," she said gratefully before she turned to the door. She pointed the tip to the knob. " _Alohomora_."

A soft click was heard muffled from the other side of the door. Hermione handed the wand back to Harry before she opened the door, flicking the porch light off as soon as she stepped inside, and held the door open for Harry to enter after her. She softly closed the door and reattached the bolt of the lock.

Harry looked around the room. He hardly ever came to the Granger's home aside for New Years and sometimes for birthdays, but his memory of the house was foggy. Every time he came here again, it always seemed more surprising than the last visit. It was very warm, very open, and very large. The house must have been around for nearly centuries by how marvelously formed the walls were around the edges and corners. Multiple pictures frames of the family were nailed to the wall, following the squared staircase up to the second floor, a high ceiling, walls dominated by bookshelves he assumed must have been occupied mostly my Hermione's books because they were nearly half-emptied, and a beautifully designed wooden floor that seemed to have taken ages to be painted masterfully. The place was modern but held an old charm to it. A perfect environment for people having a daughter like Hermione.

Movement was seen from the corner of his eye, breaking him out of his trance of the outstanding house, and he blinked his eyes to focus on the silhouette lightly walking towards the staircase in the dark. He hesitantly trailed behind, cringing at the sound of the floor creaking under his weight, and then quickly made way to the side of the staircase where he can now see Hermione's working on the latch at the upper right corner of a door. He did not see it was an entrance to what he presumed to be a basement until she flung it open and flicked on the single light bulb spotted above her head. He can see a set of steps leading down into darkness.

"Why are we here?" he asked.

"You'll see," Hermione answered honestly. Her eyes then bored into his, the impact of her emotions revealing to Harry nearly knocking him off his feet easily than her hugs could. "But I need you to promise me that you won't speak to anybody about what I'm going to show you, Harry. Not even my mum knows about this."

Harry pursed his lips, uncertain.

"Please, Harry," she pleaded.

"Okay," Harry said, resigned.

Hermione took his limp hand on his side and then pulled him with her as she stumbled down the steps, the whining creaks of the wood making Harry cringe at the sound. Whilst they descended down, his vision started to become onyx, almost having him trip at the remaining steps before he came across with smooth surface, and he tightened his hold on Hermione's hand as she guided him through the dark effortlessly. She must have been down here frequently if she managed to walk through with no sight of light and without bumping into any possible objects.

Then she stopped and he collided into her.

"Hermione?"

A click of a switch being flicked was heard and then the room was shined openly and clear. Harry had to blinked a couple of times to adjust his vision, his eyes stinging by the unexpected flash of brightness, and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses with the heel of his hands. He can hear Hermione's intake of breath as he pulled his hands away from his eyes and glanced around the newly lit up room – his voice disappeared at the second he laid his eyes upon the room.

It was obviously a basement but it was spectacular; there were paneled in a darker wood, very old and worn out but smelled freshly new. The wall on the eastern side of the room was a made bed that could only fit two people. The eastern wall was completely covered with a shelf after shelf stocked full with various albums, reminding Harry of the music store James adored. In the corner was a sophisticated sound set that made him feel rather intimated by its gorgeous wooden display and feared to touch it in case it would tumble down. An old record player set was placed along with a cassette player. Judging from how dusted and faded they seemed, Harry can tell it is all from 1970's or later but they were not of this generation of 2000's. It was all too manual.

From the opposite side of the room, there was a pool table, the colored balls stacked within the triangle, and the cues lined up at the edges. A few feet away there was an air hockey table with a sticker of the English flag taped to the center of the rink. Then on the wall was a bookshelf packed and untouched. A mini bar stood at the other corner of the room, inviting and tempting.

"Wow," Harry breathed in awe, his eyes still roaming around the room eagerly and unbelievably. "This place is…amazing!"

"Isn't it?" Hermione smiled as she walked around the room. She can see Harry go to her father's mind-boggling music collection from the corner of her eye as she went to the mini bar and yanked open the small refrigerator. The majority of liquor inside was heavy vodka, several beers, bourbon, and a few bottled margaritas. Her father must have gone to the store before his sudden stroke. "What would you like to drink?" she asked Harry over her shoulder.

"Ummm," he did not sound like he was paying attention. "Do you have any Heineken?"

Hermione searched through the choices of drinks, the glass bottles clanking into the other as she moved them to check the labels. When she reached the final bottle in the back, she peered at Harry over her shoulder and saw him take one record album from the shelf, inspecting the cover intently. She formed a small smile, pleased to see his interest in her father's belongings.

"Sorry, no," she said. "There's bourbon. You want some of that?"

"Yes, please."

She took the bronze colored liquid bottle before she placed them onto the bar table. She produced two rock glasses from the shelf next to the refrigerator below and poured the drinks, the glasses clinging by the rims. She sealed the bottles before she took the glasses and approached Harry by the music shelf. She handed him the bourbon and took a quick sip of hers as she watched him go through the musical selections.

"How are these organized?" he asked.

"By year and date," she said. "My father was thorough about that."

Harry nodded absently as he looked through the albums, each of them unknown to him. He knew they were all Muggle artists, not just because her father is one, but because he had never heard either of them in his lives. None of them were the musical bands that James had spoken to him.

 _Kiss. The Rolling Stones_. _Bon Jovi_. _Pink Floyd. Aerosmith. Queen. The Beatles. AC/DC. The Stooges. Funkadelic._

He did not recognize their names but from the years marked on the lower corners, he can see that nearly all of them were dated back to the 70's. He cursed at the Dursleys for never giving him an opportunity to listen to the radio like a normal kid.

"This one was my father's favorite," Hermione said as she took an album from the third shelf below and handed it to Harry. "The Cranberries."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Who would name themselves that?"

"Don't judge," she retorted. "They were quite popular. At least it's more decent than what artists call themselves these days. I mean seriously, who calls themselves Fetty Wap? Is that even a real word?"

Harry laughed. "So much for not judging."

"Everybody's a critic," she shrugged. She took the album from Harry's hands before she turned to the record player.

"So why are we here?" Harry asked as he watched Hermione pop open the case and then pulled out the large black record of the Cranberries album to gingerly place it on the stand. He went over to sit down on the bed and leaned back with one hand set behind his head for support as he took a sip of his bourbon.

"I used to come down here with my father," Hermione explained as she turned on the record player, the disc revolving evenly, and then she lowered the arm of the record player, the thin needle scratching along the record, creating a soothing melody to be played through the speakers. It was quiet but the gentle musical notes of the background band sounded like it was in the room with them. She took her glass of bourbon and went to join Harry at the bed, lightly perched at the edge. "I helped him build all this after third year. I used Transfiguration on most of them like the pool table, the shelves, and this bed. He bought the hockey table and the small pub. The telly, the record player, the cassette set, and the albums all belonged to my grandparents."

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. "You broke the rules? And before Ron or I knew?"

"Oh please," she huffed. "As if _you_ didn't break any rules. Need I remind you what you did to your Aunt?"

"She asked for it!"

"Still doesn't change the fact you broke the rules," she pointed out matter-of-factly. "At least I did for harmless reasons."

"Oh, piss off," Harry shot back before muttering under his breath, "Insufferable know-it-all."

"Heard that."

"You were supposed to."

"Harry!"

The two burst out into an uproariously laughing fit, leaning back into the pillows of the bed while holding up their drinks in their hands to not spill the substance. Their faces were flushed from the lack of oxygen, their stomachs were tightened by the sensation of their giggles as they clutched onto it with their free hand, Hermione's hair splayed over the sheets while some were on Harry's face, and their breathings were rapid as they tried to regain their composure.

After a moment, their childish antics became still, the sound of their restored breathing the only thing heard along with the music playing in the background. They stayed very calm as they stared around; Hermione had sat up uprightly and Harry had shifted to lean against the wall with his legs tucked beneath Hermione's. They listened to the music of the Cranberries, the soft, light rhythm setting the atmosphere less stiff and less alarming. They were quick to merge along with the song playing, falling into the void of no worries.

" _I feel infinite_ ," Harry suddenly said.

Hermione turned to him, confused. "What?"

"The book," Harry answered, lifting one hand to point at the bookshelf a few feet ahead of them. Hermione followed the direction and her eyes were settled on a lime green book with the title _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ written on a strip of tape stuck to the side. "Albus has that one. It's his favorite Muggle book – the only one he has. He has a tendency of reading out loud and I remember that quote from that book."

"It's my favorite book," Hermione said. "I have my own copy at home – the one George gave me for my birthday last year – but that one is actually my first copy. My mum got it for me sometimes after I graduated from Hogwarts. The quote you just said is actually my favorite."

"Why?"

"Because that's how I felt when I became friends with you and Ron." She turned to him, her eyes sparkling in admiration and affection, the light making her eyes a clear honey color and her pupils a shade of gray that left Harry momentarily mesmerized at the fact he did not see that unique trait her eyes are born with before. He feels like he has been blind to not see these small details of his best friend. They were marvelous, glorious.

"Is that so?" he managed to breath out.

"Yes," she replied. "I still do."

"The feeling is mutual," he agreed. He lifted his glass to his lips and tilted his head back to swallow the remains of his bourbon in one gulp before he lowered his head down to the pillows, the glass still clutched in his hand.

"How is he, Harry?" Hermione asked timidly, swirling her bourbon around her glass. She copied his actions and placed the glass on the floor before she joined with him at the pillows, her body rested on the side to be able to face him. "Is he any better?"

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, keeping his eyes gazing at his glass to avoid what he presumed to be hopeful eyes from her.

"Honestly, Hermione, I think that's something you should see for yourself," he murmured softly. When he looked up, he saw she had an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes still sparkling, and her lips curled down in a tiny frown. She was disappointed at his response but she also seemed relieved at his hesitation. He did not know if he should feel puzzled or glad at that.

"That's fair," she mumbled as she rolled onto her back, her hands resting on her stomach. "I know it's wrong of me to not be there as soon as I got the call but I just couldn't. I know he's reaching that point in his age where he can't seem to continue on and it worries me that it came quicker than I thought it would. So when I got the call, I just went to Cambridge out of instinct. I had to reassure myself. I know people die all the time in old age – I was aware of that. But I wasn't mentally prepared of my father…so soon…" she trailed off.

Harry watched her for an infinite moment. She looked like she did not sleep well with the dark circles beneath her eyes and it ate away his insides to see how vulnerable she seemed right now. She never let herself look breakable or fragile to anybody at whatever the consequences she faced, she would remain strong and solid on the outside although she might be the opposite inside.

His stomach felt off-kilter; a dreadful squeeze was in his stomach as realization struck him. This woman was just a little girl who is conflicted at the thought of losing her father, the one man who had showed her that she is more than what people say, the same man who supported her through strong trust and belief in her abilities, the only man in her life who gave her love and the treatment of a princess she deserved to get. He was her first best friend before he or Ron came into the picture and she knew she was losing him.

"Do you want my shoulder?" Harry insisted kindly, rolling his shoulder as a suggestion, flashing her a toothy smile and a sweet twinkle in his eyes. "Mine are quite big enough to get soaked on."

Hermione smiled a little smile at him, very appreciative of his attempt to comfort her, and wrapped her arms around his forearm whilst she laid her head on his offered shoulder. It was a natural sense. Then she let her tears to become wet with persistent tears and fall freely into the open, allowing Harry to see all of her pain.

"I don't want to lose him," she whimpered. "I just can't."

"I know," Harry whispered. He cannot bring to himself to say that she don't lose her father because that is not something he can promise to her, that is something that can be associated with Death himself.

They lay on the bed in silence for a few minutes. Harry was comfortable and warm with the way she held his arm as if it was her lifeline, relishing the feeling of being depended on that he had not felt for so long. It is rare for Hermione to be dependent on another, especially on him, but he never complained as he found that he really did like being able to help people even for trivial things. It was pleasing and familiar, as if a part of him from his previous life had suddenly been revived once more and she is the one who brought him back with just her tears. That was the sign of need that brought back his feeling.

Sometime later, Harry felt Hermione's hand stop tracing paths of circles that she had been drawing on his arm. He did not realize she was doing it until she stopped. Her body shifted to have his arm beneath her head and her arms folded between them, her fiery breath heating up on his neck as she breathed, causing the hairs on his arm to stand proudly, and he was suddenly aware of each time her chest would rise with the rhythm of her breathing. He wondered if she was still awake because her small cries had subsided a little while ago and the damp spot on his shoulder was drying up by her hair. Bourbon is a strong alcoholic beverage and he knew that she does not drink such substance because it would cause her to be drowsy so quickly with one glass so he would not be surprised if she had fallen asleep by now.

A twitch came and she moved again. She was definitely awake.

"So," he whispered. "Your father's name is Aegeus?"

"Yes," she spoke in the same low tone.

"What kind of name is that?" he asked. "I never heard of it before."

"It's Greek," she said. "It means _protector_. My grandmother was a mythology professor at Oxford University so she named him after Aegeus for the same reasons they named me Hermione – she wanted something unusual and original. Aegeus is a Greek figure who is supposed to have had a hand in founding the city of Athens."

He remembered learning about that in St. Grogory's Primary School, his old Muggle school. "That's nice."

"Apparently, my name has a Greek meaning too," she continued. "It means _good messenger_."

Harry snorted. "And I thought you weren't an owl."

"Oh, bugger off," she said with a laugh as she swatted him across his chest before she tentatively laid her head on it, her hand limped upon it. Harry could only hope that she did not heart his heart accelerate or skip a beat. "I'll have you know, my name is a Greek figure who was the daughter of Helen of Troy and the wife of Orestes."

"So?"

"So she's more than what her name means."

"Doesn't change the irony of it."

Hermione lifted her head, lean against her elbow, and glared at him. Harry just laughed more.

"Git," she grumbled.

"I think the Ministry changed you, Mione," he said. "I don't remember you being so insulting before."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Or childish," he chuckled. He noticed the tear marks dried on her cheeks and used his hand to wipe them away with his thumb.

"Thanks," she sniffed, a grateful smile lifting her cheeks from the corners.

"No problem," he said as he continued to rub his thumb over her face, underneath her eyelids and in the dip of her cheekbones. She was cleansed from any signs of water but he did not want to remove his hand from her face because he was enchanted at how incredibly smooth and soft her skin felt under the coarse and grainy ones. And the way how her eyes were bright even in the dim light was marvelous to look into, to see how deep the depths are, and the shaking sensation of her stare would make his skin vibrate in crawling bumps.

Her open face was so captivating and was devastatingly beautiful. He couldn't believe it only took him fourth year to see it but now that he was close enough, he can see that her face was truly rare. She looked like those photo shopped models commonly found in the cover of an issue of a magazine, only she was real and natural. She even reminded him of those goddesses he had learned about in primary school, only they did not seem to do her any justice in her true presence. He can feel the heat of his face travel downwards through his blood veins and then reached his heart, causing it to beat twice its pace beneath his chest. He hoped she cannot feel.

He nearly jumped when he felt her fingers weave through his hair and then trail down to his jaw, one finger lingering along the line up to his ear.

"You need to shave again," she said.

He just grunted in response. He wasn't entirely focused on what she was saying to him because he was mostly engrossed by her shocking beauty. His eyes traced at her lips now. He felt himself go mad as he stared the flesh bare of gloss yet seem so addictively smooth that it gave him a tempting urge to just take them for himself, the thought shocking Harry even more. He should feel guilty for feeling like this towards his best friend and the wife of another but he cannot seem to find the conscious when he is being drawn in by the provocative gentle pink lips in front of him.

The music in the background faded away into a faint buzz in Harry's ears. Her soft breathing is all he can hear and feel. He couldn't breathe.

Something changed in Hermione's eyes; they were glazed over with unknown emotions. Her hands slipped up on his torso to take Harry's face in her hands gently, the tips of her fingers barely grazing over his stubble, and her amber eyes blazing wildly as she stared into his jaded eyes intensely, too strongly for Harry to be able to breathe evenly. His eyes widen a bit when he noticed that her face seemed to become quite closer to his but he did not move. He dared not to make any movements, his mind stunned in numbness at what is going on.

Hermione was hesitant in a way that one would be before initiating a kiss with another in order to gauge their reaction, to see if he was willing to receive or to avoid. Her fingertips trembled against his face in anticipation.

She did not know what she was doing to Harry; he was perplexed by the rush of emotions. He was scared, he was anxious, he was curious, he was shocked, he was pleased, he was disappointed, he was excited, he was angry, and he was…happy. It was like fireworks were being blasted within his heart and mind at the close proximity between them, not sure on how he should really react to this. He had never been in a situation like this, not with Hermione.

And then her warm, smooth textured lips pressed very softly yet firmly against his in a swift motion. Pressure was applied between them, the force of her lingering lips pressing against the flesh of his and intoxicated his mind with each gentle, feathery brush exchanged. The patterns of her fingers rubbed across Harry's lips as she slid them over to the back of his head to pull him closer to her, deepening the kiss a bit but not enough to part their lips, and then carefully gripped onto the hair on the nape of his neck, fisting it.

Luscious, soft, and heavenly. Her mouth was a wonderland. The suction from the crease between her lips applied on his lower lip was electrifying as if a bolt of lightning had been struck into him, awakening the wires connected to his nerves and shocking life into them. The way how her lips slides over his, caressing them tenderly in an enticing pace that gave his heart a riveting glow as the compelling sensation of her shaking mouth traveled into it. His lungs seem to have expanded painfully with the enchanting pull forcing his air out and leaving him breathless as she seems to be sucking the soul out of him.

There was a sense of insanity. The way their lips crashed with the other demandingly, trying to gain supremacy over the other, the urge to dominate causing their teeth to sometimes bump into the other as they kiss. It was almost animalistic, it was inviting. It was unbelievable. It was surreal. No word could not seem to fit the description of what this moment truly felt.

Harry let out a gasp, breathing in the cinnamon scent that was provided from her naturally, and then slid his arms around her waist, digging his fingers in the fabric of her nightgown as he glided them over her back, elating a low rumble from her chest. He felt warmth spread over his face, his cheeks burning intensely, making him inhale sharply through his nose as the skin of his arms tighten and tingle in delight.

Harry hummed lightly into the kiss, sighing quietly every time they broke away only for one or the other to start it all over again. But when he began to feel a sensation in the bit of his stomach that he only ever felt whenever it came to Ginny and the thumps of her heart becoming more erratic against him, he knew they had to stop. Whether this feeling was something that went along with the alcoholic bourbon or a guilty sensation for doing the unfaithful behind the back of his wife and brother-in-law, it caught his attention.

But it was Hermione who pulled away first, her eyes never opening. He put his hand on her cheek.

"Hermione…"

Her head dropped onto his shoulder, her hair cascaded over her face and shoulders. Harry was beginning to panic at the mood surrounding them instantly changing alertly but then he let out a sigh once he felt her rapid breath slow down in a calm pattern and he knew she had fallen asleep. The effects of alcohol finally got to her.

He let his head fall onto the pillow with a groan. He did not move. He kept himself perfectly still with one arm used as a pillow for Hermione and the other bent to have his hand cupping his head in his palm from behind. He can smell the chocolaty scent of her hair as he stroked her locks, lightly brushing away the strands from her face for her to be able to breathe better. He traced his fingers slowly down her back, playing with the silk of her nightgown, feeling himself beginning to be lightheaded by the essence of her shampoo.

The room seemed darker now even with the light on, and a shiver would crawl up on his spine as he slipped his freezing feet under a quilt scrunched up in a bundle at the foot of the bed, being careful to not wake Hermione with his movements. He hadn't noticed he was this tired all this time until he blinked his eyes closed and he was asleep a minute later, utterly unconscious, very content in a matter of seconds.

The last thing he remembered was the music of the Cranberries still playing in the background, the last few lyrics he heard being the only thing he can hear inside his mind as he drifted away into a dreamland paradise.

 _But I'm in so deep_

 _You know I'm such a fool for you_

 _You got me wrapped around your finger, ah, ha, ha._

 _Did you have to let it linger?_

 _Did you have to, did you have to_

 _Did you have to let it linger?_

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	7. Guilty Pleasures

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the location and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned.

 **A:N:** I know most of you are peeved by the RW/HG and HP/GW romance but you need to understand that this is after the epilogue of the book so they are going to be married and I'm not going to make Ron and Ginny a couple of horrible people when they're not. Yeah, they have their flaws but then again who doesn't? But this is purely HP/HG story. You just need to read along through the developments like JK Rowling's books.

Remember they were strangers who became just friends and later turned into best friends who eventually developed into family. Please share me the same patience you did with Rowling to see Harry and Hermione's relationship grow. I would very much appreciate it from you all. Thank you.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _Here we are_

 _Isn't it familiar_

 _Haven't had someone to talk to_

 _In such a long time_

 _And it's strange_

 _All we have in common_

 _And your company was just the thing I needed tonight_

 _Somehow I feel I should apologize_

 _Cuz I'm just a little shaken_

 _By what's going on inside_

\- I Should Go; Levi Kreis

* * *

 _"Short is the joy that guilty pleasure brings."_

\- Euripides

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Guilty Pleasures**

Harry had managed to get Hermione to the hospital that night but he left with Ginny and Lily as soon as he could, stating that he needed to wake up early for work the next day. He couldn't bring himself to look at Ron in the eye when he came back from his search without feeling remorse of acting so intimately to his wife and the adulterous actions he performed behind the back of the one he is committed to. Mostly, he could not be able to be in the same room as his best friend without feeling guilty of the rapid thrill and absolute pleasure he had gotten out from kissing Hermione. It was wrong and deceitful.

Days passed by ever since that night has happened and Mr. Granger still hasn't showed any signs of waking up anytime soon. Every day, after work hours ended and picking up the kids from school, Hermione would head over to the hospital to visit her father and sit next to him throughout the remaining hours of the day – occasionally leaving the room to go to the bathroom or the lunchroom – with Ron or the other family members staying by her side. Harry would go on his own time in order to avoid Hermione or Ron and the awkwardness he knew would fall upon them for being in the same room. He'd talk to the doctor about Mr. Granger's conditions during his visits and leave an orchid flower among the other flower vases beside his bed as his way to let Hermione know that he is supporting her from afar.

The doctor's answer on Mr. Granger was always the same – no change. Harry suppose that is kind of a good thing because then Mr. Granger will have a better percentage of chance to live.

Harry's life has been absolutely consumed by his searches on the Death Eaters and Snatchers and the updated reports on his field officer's missions. Apparently, Jugson had known that Proudfoot was close to capturing him and had rigged traps around Matterhorn that she was unlucky to step into. Harry had sent a group of Aurors are on their way to her aid and are expected to return to the Ministry someday in the afternoon. Until then, Harry will just continue with his investigation for Yaxley, visit his father-in-law at the hospital alone, and keep his avoidance of Hermione in session.

As the month progressed on, Harry could tell everyone was becoming more and more dread without the presence of Fabian. The third week of September had been terrible. It was the worst case-scenario that could have happened, one that no one would think of. When the sixteenth rolled around, that's when Harry noticed a change in his daughter. During the time, she'd make small talk with him or Ginny for a few minutes and even asked them how their day at work was like, but after a while she was drained out of energy. All she wanted was a chip butty by the time she'd lazily stumbled into the house. She'd never leave her room once she goes inside unless it was to go to the toilet or when Ginny would call out to her for dinner.

Unfortunately, according to what Ron had told him, Hugo wasn't any better.

The Weasley residence felt out of life without his energetic attitude brightening up a spark of positivity around the house like a lighthouse. In the mornings, he'd hardly complain to Hermione for fixing his school uniform on him anymore or when she would comb his messy bed hair into a neat slick back. He never liked his hair being tucked – he preferred bushy and wild. He didn't even finish his plates or ask for second servings like he normally does. He'd just go up to his room to do his homework, comes back downstairs to eat dinner, wash the dishes, and go back up to go to sleep before it is eight o' clock.

Although, he did not like the affects that was happening to the children, Harry was not surprised to see and hear how they are coping with Mr. Granger being hospitalized. They enjoyed his company lovingly and always looked forward for his next monthly visit. They'd listen to him whenever he shared the same stories he'd spoke to Hermione about or about her childhood days – Hugo could not believe that his mother once had buck teeth but he was glad to know where he had gotten his bushy hair from – and they'd spend the day with him listening to his old music that were appropriate for their age. There are times when Mr. Granger would show them a Muggle magic trick with a coin, making them believe he was a wizard for the time being. Their parents did not confess that he'd actually hide the coin in his sleeve and slide it back up his hand to make it seem like it appeared behind their ear.

Lily and Hugo loved their grandfather as much as they did to their parents so for them to hear him to be sick had left them to be gloom. Harry could only hope that Mr. Granger recovered sooner for the sake of his daughter and nephew.

Even with the weight of his work and family pressing down onto him, Harry would lay awake at night with one arm being used by Ginny as a pillow and his other hand tracing the knuckles of the hand laid on his chest. He couldn't make himself to stop thinking about Hermione and the sinful kiss they had shared that one night. The feelings he had gotten from her bourbon flavored lips smashed into his would floor into his heart and make his mind steam with questions; the way how her hands were so delicate yet aggressive when they grabbed his hair, the small puffs of alcoholic breaths blown on his face with each brush of their kiss, how her lips easily molded with his like clay, and the way she seemed demanding to be the superior one, to be the one to finish what she initiated – he enjoyed all of it and he felt disgusted in himself for that.

Of course, he cannot deny that her kissing was beyond satisfactory. Quite amazing how she was swift and flawless. But he wondered if that had been the reason why he loved the kiss. If whether or not, her way of kissing had been the true cause to why he could not pull away. That was another question he asked himself; why didn't he pull away? More importantly, why did he keep going along with her? Why did he kiss her back?

He had no doubt that Hermione had acted on him that way due to needing comfort and under the influence of alcohol. Her tolerance in strong beverages was not as high as it is for light drinks such as wine and margaritas so she tends to be the first one to become drowsy after one glass. He remembered one time when he had traveled to Germany with her and Ron as a celebratory trip for ending the war that Hermione had only drunk two glasses of beer before she passed out for the night and Ron had to carry her on their way back to the inn they stayed in. He actually found it adorable that he was one of the many people lucky to have her show him the stubborn and childish side of her. To the rest of the world, she was the strict Hermione Granger who was a punctual, professional, and mature genius of the trio while to him and Ron, she was just Hermione Granger, the insufferable know-it-all who loves books and had limited sense of humor. It seemed to suit her to be someone who could not surpass her line of alcohol.

But Harry did not know his reason for kissing her back. Was it because she looked ravishing? Or was it because he finally noticed how breathtaking she looked? He always thought that maybe because it was the third time in his life that he saw her so vulnerable – the first being her crying over Ron being with Lavender and the second being of her mourning over Ron's departure during their quest for the Horcruxes – and he was able to have a clear view of details about her in that state that he did not focused the first two times. She had tried to be strong but leaned on him for moral support and wanted comfort. It was something he had missed and she had brought back that protective instinct he grown up with. It was familiar, old even. But it was also new to him. He just couldn't understand why.

The following mornings, Harry's family would eat breakfast in complete silence, the room feeling dreadful with the empty chair on the right end of the table where Mr. Granger always sat on during his visits. Harry would feel Ginny's eyes on him, scrutinizing his every move. He knew she could tell he was feeling uneasy with his thoughts especially when he can agreed to go to the Prophet party and that she wanted to say something to fill up the hole of silence. However, it never came. Instead the sounds to be heard were the clanking of their spoons inside their cereal bowls, Lily's appreciative grunts of her omelet, and Ginny's occasional sipping of coffee out of her mug.

Harry would be the first one to finish; he would clear up his dishes, place them in the sink, give Lily a kiss on the head and on to Ginny on the cheek before he left for work. He would curve away when she'd try to give him a kiss on the mouth like they usually do but he could not bring himself to do that without thinking of Hermione's lips covering his own.

Currently, Harry was striding into the Auror Department looking like a complete wreck. He looked like he suffered from restless nights with the way his hair stuck out in different directions, how his eyes were drooping tiredly, and how his body seemed to slump down by the shoulders as he passed the many cubicles of his officers, barely noticing their morning greetings to him. He was holding a foam cup of hot coffee he bought in a café on the way there, even though he had already had drunk a cup before he left home. He was sleepy – he missed his bed. He thinks this could be the first time he did not like coming to work.

"Chief Potter?" a gruff voice called out to him from the left once he had his hand tied around the knob to his main office. Harry had to suppress the urge to groan annoyingly as he turned around to the person who called him and saw his second-in-command, Arnold Grumps, standing there with his hands hidden behind his back and his legs tucked together, a sight of a respectful soldier. He was a man of thirty-two years, two feet taller than Harry, with gray smoky eyes, light freckles around his nose and under his eyes, and a short-cropped Ivy-league hair that is dirty blonde. There was a scar carved over his left eye, a mark he had gotten from a mission three years ago.

"Grumps," Harry said.

"I beg your pardon for bothering you so early in the morning but I have an urgent message for you," Arnold stated. "Savage and Rogue have reported not too long ago that they had just gotten back from Matterhorn. Proudfoot is at St. Mungo's right now."

"Is she alright?" Harry asked.

"According to Rogue, she suffered minor damage from the Cruciatus Curse and several burn marks," Arnold answered. "Traces lead to Jugson's wand. He was gone before they arrived."

Harry sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He despised receiving terrible news about his officers being injured in any way. He felt responsible for being the one sending them out to their possible deaths or for being the one who had gotten them hurt. He knew he should have sent someone else with Proudfoot on her mission for Jugson. He was a fugitive who was able to escape from the arms of the Ministry and still roam free with a wanted mark hanging over his head. No one was able to do that. The only wizard he knew who was able to do that was his godfather, Sirius Black.

"I'll make sure to visit her tomorrows for her report," Harry said a moment later. "Send an owl to her to let her know that."

"Yes sir," Arnold said quickly. "Also you've been requested by Cornell earlier. He said it has something to do with the Rowle case."

Mark Cornell is a doctor and the official Medical Examiner for the Auror Department. He is known to be the eldest for being in his late seventies. Harry did not know much about him because Mark was already working in the Ministry before he was in the training program to become an Auror. The only things Harry knew about Mark was that he was born and raised in Cumbria, studied the necessary subjects to become a Healer, had attended Eton College and Kings College, graduated from University of Edinburgh's Medical School before he joined the Ministry. He went to Muggle universities as a backup plan in case he retired soon and would continue to live life with an easy job in the Muggle world.

Harry found that quite smart on his part.

"Alright," Harry said. "Thanks, Grumps."

"You're welcome, sir." Arnold turned around, prepared to return to his station.

"Oh, by the way, Grumps?"

Arnold whirled around to face Harry. "Yes, sir?"

"Three weeks ago, did Counselor Granger request any escorts to the Rowle Manor?" Harry questioned.

"Yes. I gave her Pritchet and Moon. They're still level four officers but from what she told me, she did not need anyone higher than that."

"Did she tell you what she was going to the manor for?"

"No sir." Arnold shook his head. "She was very vague about her reasons. She just told me it had something to do with Rowle and that it is imperative that she went to the manor as soon as possible."

"Hmm." Harry furrowed. He did not like that side of Hermione when she is not clear with what she does. It was frustrating at times. "Okay. That is all, Grumps."

Arnold nodded, his eyes showing his hesitance at first, and then he turned back to head over to his cubicle.

Harry trudged across the office once more, ignoring the curious glances of his officers and the not-so-discreet murmurs, as he made his way over to the exit. He felt adrenaline course through him as he walked down the corridor and he was not sure if it had to do with his aggravation on Hermione's secretive intentions or if it was because of the fact one of his officers had gotten harmed under his orders.

Maybe it wasn't anything to do with Harry specifically. Maybe it was the rush roaming in the atmosphere that hung over the entire department. Ever since the article about Hermione's investigation in the Rowle Manor, there has been buzzes of excitement and impatience about the case than before, many people making wagers on who would win, some were doubtful of Hermione, others were relaxing a bit to know an infamous criminal could be put behind the bars of Azkaban soon. Rumors flew around aimlessly from office to office on the case, some ridiculous to hear while others were comical. Harry sometimes wonders who came up with them.

As he walked through the hall crowded with bustling and scattering employees, Harry couldn't help but reminisce on the first few times he spent in this building when he was just a trainee. The reckless choices he made to prove his worth as an elite, the seemingly endless stream of situations that he would put himself in to make it where he is now. And the sound of Ginny's voice behind him reminding him that he needed to be alive to even become an Auror and Hermione's shrill whenever she found him all battered from a session. The thought of those days caused a slight tug in his heart. He remembered how close they were, how they used to have dinner dates together, go for a day out at a festival or to the cinema, and how they would express their concern every time he was sent out on a mission. He also remembered the fatigue; the constant tiredness that came from the training program and how the girls would aid him back to full health along with Ron.

He missed it. All of it.

Finally he came to the door that led him to the Investigation Department and he walked inside the room. It was a magnificent place yet dangerous with the many tables full of chemical, potions, and sacred documents. There were witches and wizards clad in various protective robes in different colors; the red robes are the forensic scientists in charge of examining evidences or victims from a crime scene, the green robes are in charge of the document records, the blue robes are in charge of tracking the dark wizards wanted, and the purple robes are interns to the investigators. Each were rushing across the room, loudly communicating with their partner and cursing to themselves for their mistakes.

Harry stepped through the whirlwind of overly active members, occasionally bumping shoulders with one on the way, receiving polite greetings, and acknowledging those he walked past but overall continued to venture forward to a lone door spotted in the far end of the room. When he reached the door that had a plate reading MEDICAL EXAMINER: MARK CORNELL and turned the handle to enter the restricted section of the Investigation Department.

"Cornell?" Harry called out as he pushed the door closed.

The area was completed white from the cemented walls to the tiled floors and the smooth shelves to the polished examination tables. There were various vials and tools seen settled on the shelves and others were floating in the air around a man wearing a red robe, long bluish-black hair that reached his chin, and striking clear blue eyes. He was tall as Harry but he was pudgy and round. He had a thin mustache that is barely noticeable even with his pale complexion. He was hunched over a corpse he had on the examination table, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and a floating tray was next to him.

"Cornell," Harry repeated. This time, the man had snapped his head up to his direction and Harry noticed he had a surgical mask wrapped over his mouth and nose.

"Ah, Chief Potter, nice of you to come," Mark said, slipping off one of the latex gloves from his hand and held it out. Harry was hesitant to accept his hand, seeing the gloves were covered in crusted skin and dried substance, but politely shook it nonetheless.

"Likewise," he said. "What is it you needed me for?"

"It's about the Rowle case, sir," Mark responded, his voice somewhat muffled behind the surgical mask. He turned to the corpse lying on the table and slid down the cover to reveal it to be crisped woman who seemed to be in her early thirties and the golden blond streaks of her hair were whitened through time, the volume of it dead. Her skin was wrinkled like a wilted flower and the stab wounds were rough, ragged; Harry had to look away for a moment to not feel nauseous at how fatal the wounds were.

"This is Rowle's mother, Lucy Hail," Mark started. "As you can see, she suffered some multiple stabs and occasional slashes...No signs of struggle and no handprints on her. I ran multiple Revealing Charms, Examination Spells, and several Detection Potions but there were no signs that Rowle was behind their murder. The only thing I found out was that there was no traces of the _Sectumsempra_ spell on it. The wounds are too barbaric and hazard to be done by the spell anyway."

"So why am I here?" Harry questioned.

"Because of this." Mark walked over to a desk on the far right wall of the room, pulled opened a drawer, and pulled out a plastic bag before he returned to Harry. He held up the bag, showing a butcher knife held inside. "This is the murder weapon. Mrs. Granger found it in the house."

"What is the importance?" Harry asked. It seemed like a normal commonly used utensil but he knew if it was found by Hermione and taken in by her out of all the objects in the house that it must held a significant reason to her.

Mark summoned the tray next to him to come between him and Harry before he opened the bag to drop the knife onto it, two clanks heard. Then he slipped his wand out from within the sleeve of his robe and pointed it to the knife.

" _Revelabit,_ " he muttered and an orb of light blue light glowed from tip of the wand, creating smaller orbs to gather around the knife, shining brightly for a long second before it disappeared. There was an afterglow, showing what looked to be invisible liquid splattered over the knife becoming solid to the clear.

Harry's eyes widen in astonishment.

"Mrs. Granger and the Aurors used that spell around the manor when she found this," Mark explained. "When she showed me this, I ran some tests and the results came to be Mr. and Mrs. Rowle's blood on it."

"But there's no fingerprints from Rowle," Harry pointed out.

"Technically, there is, just indirectly," Mark remarked. "While I was matching the DNA of the victims, I found some prints on the knife but they were from an elf – the old house-elf of the Rowle's. I had Gibbs look for information on the elf at the RCMCD and he had tracked the elf somewhere in New Forest. When they brought her in, I immediately did the Tracing Spell on her and saw she had been under the influence of the Imperius Curse which was later traced to-"

"Rowle's wand," Harry finished.

"Yes."

"That would explain why that case hasn't been solved for years," Harry said. The detection and revealing spell had not been invented during the time when the Rowle parents were alive so when the investigation of the murder happened, the former criminal team had not been able to trace anything if there was no evidence at the time. But thanks to Hermione being persistent, the lost proof had been found after many years and the Rowle family could be brought to justice.

"What about the elf?"

"The elf was brought in yesterday for questioning," Mark replied. "I think she is under Counselor Granger's care considering she is a magical creature and all. I think her name is Twinky. Odd name for an elf."

Needless to say, Harry was not surprised by this. Finding lost creatures and sheltering them is what Hermione's career is based on – she had worked horrendously for years to reach the position she has to make lives easier for magical creatures. She was probably killing two birds with one stone by gathering information from the victimized elf and yet searching for a welcoming home out of the many she made that is comfortable for Twinky.

"Indirect kill," Harry mumbled. "He killed them in the Muggle way yet at the same time he didn't."

"Genius it was," Mark sighed. "Cruel and distasteful but a genius tactic at the time. I guess he didn't suspect anybody to create those spells."

Then Harry had a thought. "Can you by any chance use the Tracing Spell on Rowle? See if you can find out if he was under the Imperius Curse?"

"I can't do that, sir."

"Why?"

"Because it has already been done. The Tracing Spell doesn't work on everyone," Mark explained. "There are still minor flaws on the spell when tampering with someone's mind. It either does not enter the person's mind or it could alter their brain cells and cause permanent damage. That's why it is not used often. I only used it that one time because Twinky allowed it and Mrs. Granger was there in case things went wrong."

Harry sighed and looked around the room. He felt like he was in one of the solitary cells of Azkaban with his clean and closed up the place was. He felt like an animal in a cage and wondered how Mark is able to spend his time in here daily. Harry had not been here for twenty-five minutes and he already felt like he was suffocating by the lack of human interactions or the sight of them.

"I understand," he said. "I suppose this would have to do. Get me a report of the autopsy and send it to my office. I'll need to make sure we didn't leave anything out on this."

"No need to, sir," Mark retorted. "I already gave the report to Counselor Granger. I'm sure she will give it to you when she's finished interrogating Twinky today. She is still jittery from all this so Counselor Granger has to coax her in one day at a time."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "That report is supposed to be sent to me as soon as possible. Information like that is under the name of the AD," he said.

Mark shrunk away by the hard tone being used by Harry and swallowed thickly. "I apologize, Chief Potter, truly. But Counselor Granger insisted, saying you two are working on the case together and all. I did not see any harm being done by giving it to her. I figured with her position as Senior Undersecretary, she has the same rights as you."

Harry gritted his teeth and breathed in deeply through them. He was really beginning to get annoyed of Hermione taking over a case of his.

Harry cleared his throat. "Alright," he grumbled. "Thanks for your time, Cornell. Keep up the good work."

Then Harry turned and made his way out of the office, fuming.

* * *

Later that day, when Harry got off the lift, he did not hesitate to stride down the recognizable hallway of the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures Department, not caring if people would stare at him incredulously because of his stoned face or if he could hear his name being spoken under their indiscreetly whispers, as he stomped down to the reception desk. There stood one of Hermione's assistants that he remembered easily.

"Julie," he said.

The woman looked up from the parchment she had been writing on and immediately rose up from her chair as she held out her hand. "Good morning, Harry."

Harry smiled as he accepted her hand and shook. From the many meetings he had with his best friend and her attending there with Hermione, she had gotten comfortable enough to refer to him as his name instead of his title. "Good morning. Is Hermione here by any chance? I have something very important to talk about with her."

Julie grimaced. "Sorry, you just missed her. She came back from an interrogation not too long ago and left home as soon as she was done filing her reports. Minister Kingsley gave her the rest of the day off."

Harry groaned inwardly. Now that he had decided to speak to her, she was out of reach at every attempt he made. He supposes that was karma for him avoiding her for the past week.

"Did she leave with a report?" he asked. "It's important information."

"Hmm," Julie mused. "I think I saw her with a file. She was in a rush that she barely spoke to words to me."

Harry's stomach was now twisted in knots and his heart beats against his chest harshly that it hurt. Could it be that she found out about him avoiding her that she is upset with him? Hermione being in a rush could mean a lot of things; errands, meetings, visits, picking up her son from school, and the late. But he couldn't stop thinking that she knew he would look for her and was quick to escape from him.

"By the way," Julie's voice broke him out of his reverie. She reached behind her desk to pull out a small stack of envelopes from her drawer and handed them to Harry. "These are addressed to you. They were sent here by mistake."

Harry went through the three envelopes, noticing that two stampes were in the same familiar family crest he knew and one was a Hogwarts crest addressed from his eldest son. He shared his appreciation to Julie before he made his way back to the lifts, opening the first letter he got from James. As soon as he pulled the paper from within, he began to read the somewhat messy scrawl of his first born.

 _Hey mum, dad_

 _Everything is going well over here. I found out that I really enjoy Potions and DADA very much. Professor Slughorn taught us how to make the Hair-Raising Potion and a bird accidentally mixed the wrong ingredients that made someone lose their eyebrows from the explosion. I think she's Seamus' daughter, she seems to have his genes from what you told me. History of Magic was a bore; I won't lie, I sorta fell asleep in some lessons. Professor Binns is just…well, boring. He talks so low and slow that nearly half the class was taking a nap. I don't think I've learned anything about the Warlock's Convention except the name. Herbology is interesting with Professor Longbottom; I never knew Mandrakes could cure someone petrified. Is that what was used when Aunt Hermione was petrified?_

 _Defense Against the Dark Arts is my most favorite subject. I can see why you used to love that class more than any other. But I really don't like my teacher, he's too conceited. Very in love with himself. He even made us do a quiz of himself on the first day. Obviously I failed that. I don't know a thing about Gilderoy Lockhart! I never heard of his books until weeks ago. The girls fancy him a lot. I don't understand why. I guess he's the Edward Black or Jacob Cullen of the century or whatever their names are. Either way, DADA is still my favorite because of the physical activities we get to do. They're fun! Although I would have enjoyed it more if that bleeding boggart hadn't showed my fear of dogs. Now everyone calls me Dog-Feared-Potter. Don't worry, I showed them not to bother me through Quidditch. One of the perks of being a Beater._

 _Aside from that, there is nothing new. Well, I got to get going. Quidditch practice and all. I'll send you another letter when I can. Hope everything is going well over there._

 _Your son,_

 _James_

 _P.S Give Lily a hug from me and tell her Al and I miss her._

Harry smiled quietly, his eyes skimming over the letter once again, and went to the next one as he stopped in front of the lift he had used previously. It was not there yet so he chose to open the other letter that was addressed from his wife and began to read it.

 _Darling,_

 _I might be staying work till seven today. Some of the new correspondents need help writing their article and I need to finish mine. Also Ron invited us over for supper – been a long time hasn't it? So I have no doubt he's going to take Lily with him and Hugo after school. If you can please pick up some butterbeer and pumpkin juice on the way over there. I'd appreciate it. I'll see you there after I get off of work._

 _Love,_

 _Ginny_

The lift had arrived shortly and Harry quickly scampered into the cart before the other waiting passengers did. He slipped the first two envelopes in the pocket of his coat before he ripped open the last one and used one hand to hold onto the handle as he felt the cart jerk backwards, the force nearly making him tumble over his own feet. He instantly knew it was from Ron when he saw the familiar pen ship.

 _Hey mate,_

 _I'm pretty sure that Ginny must have told you already, but I invited you lot over for supper. Figured it'd be good for Hugo and Lily as a distraction from their grandfather. And for Hermione too. The others are coming over too. Also I need to talk to you about something I have in mind._

 _Ron_

Harry furrowed his brows at this as soon as the cart came to a halted stop and the metal cage was pushed open by the front passengers before the load started to disperse with him following along with the flow. His eyes continued to scan the parchment, his mind rattled. He could not figure out what it could be that Ron would want to talk to him about. They haven't spoken in a while before and after the night at the hospital except for the times he would ask him about Hugo and the conversation does not last over five minutes. Awful but true. At least he was able to hear from one of his best friend although he could not really blame Hermione about the distance between them.

Harry then paused in the middle of the moving crowd, ignoring the ones who had bumped into him from behind and muttered incoherent words under their breath as they walked past him. The thought of Hermione brought a terrible fear. What if she had told him about the kiss? Could that be what Ron wanted to talk to him about? Was Ron going to have more than a row with him? He had no doubt his knowledge in combat and reflexes were more advanced than Ron's ever since he decided to retire from being an Auror but he could not simply force himself to land a punch on him. But would Ron actually start a fight in front of the children? He knew Hermione would not let that happen but he did not feel certain at that.

He was not ready to face Hermione again. He had gone the other from her for a reason and a good one too. He did not want things to be awkward between them especially if their spouses are under the same roof as them. He had several reasons as to why he did not want to talk to Hermione – many of them including their marriages being in the line and their friendship being apart or done for good – and it was truly imperative for him to not have to stand in front of them now. Yet, at the same time, he wanted to because he needed to find the real cause why he responded to that kiss.

With a deep breath, Harry resumed to walk towards his department with a feeling of weak determination and false enthusiasm.

* * *

The Weasley residence was simple and eye-catching at the same time in Central London. It was a mixture of Ron and Hermione's homes in one. It had the warm, cozy atmosphere of the Burrow and the organized elegance of the old Granger house. Two floors with a brick wall on the bottom but a wooden wall on top. The archway was inviting, welcoming mostly. It stood out from the other modern houses on Chester Avenue, not because it was around the bend of the street but due to how it was newly old to the others just like how Harry's home is. It was not reconstructed but it was original.

Harry was standing in front of the door with a nervous expression painted on his face, his knuckles whitening as he gripped onto the two plastic bags. He had gone to the Diagon Alley to purchase the two items that Ginny had requested from him. He was anxious to be in the property he had once visited frequently again. He did not feel belonging like he used to and he did not know if it was by the long period of time that had passed since his last visit or if because he had a heavy sensation weighed on his shoulder at the fact that the source of his unfaithfulness is living within those walls.

He questioned if Hermione was even home yet. Julie had said she left before he could reach her but she did not tell him why she left so soon specifically.

That soothes Harry for a bit but he did not hope so highly of it. Clearing his throat and breathing in deeply, Harry switched one bag to the other hand before raising it to shakily knock on the oak door. He turned around as he stuffed his hand in his pocket, glancing around the neighborhood street. It was open, nice. The grasses of the home's yards were neatly trimmed, the plants were healthy in growth, the houses were cleansed from any dirt or grim, and the streets were never deserted of people. Some of the residents would be seen walking by alone, with a partner, or accompanied with their dog. If he could freeze the time, he would feel like he was staring at a brochure for new sales of houses. Everything looked dainty like it was all from an American television program.

Harry was engrossed at the scenery that he did not hear the door behind him click open until he heard his name being said from a voice his ears would always perk up to. He did not have to turn to know who it was; this was a voice he could name out in any crowd. He knew who it was and he mentally cursed at his lack of luck yet he was silently proud of himself for not being too optimistic for the latter.

Almost rigidly, he turned around to face _her_. And he did not feel anything wrong by what he saw standing in front of him. Crazed hair tied into a messy bun, loose sweatpants that pooled over her small feet – Harry figured it must be Ron's because it is far too big for her tiny frame – and a blood red tank top with one strap fallen down onto her upper arm. Harry tried to not let his mind wander over the color of peach visible on her shoulder.

"H-Hermione." He imagined kicking himself for stuttering.

She smiled brightly. "Harry! You came!"

"Er, yeah," he stammered, glancing down as he held up the two bags. "I come bearing refreshments."

"Come in," she said as she held the door wider and stepped aside to let him step into her house, not noticing that he was quite hesitant and nervous when he passed by her. She clicked the door closed the turned to him. "Lily is in the common room with Hugo."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Where's Ron?"

"He had to go and run an errand," Hermione answered as she trekked her way down to the entrance that led her to the kitchen in the hallway. Harry followed her wordlessly, obediently.

"What errand?" he asked as he settled the two bags on the island counter, the two boxes full of beverages heard clanking. He sat on the stool by the counter and leaned against his elbows as he watched Hermione walk over to the stove where faint steams of a delicious aroma surfacing within the boiling pots and sizzling pans.

"He didn't say," she said. "He was very vague about it and that worries me."

"I'm sure it's nothing bad."

"I'm not jumping to conclusions or anything if that's what you're thinking. It's just from the past experiences you and I have with him, you should know that whenever Ron is secretly planning something then it involves mischief or does not turn up as well as he planned."

"Can't say I don't agree," Harry grinned subconsciously. "But I don't think there's any mischief involved. He's grown up a lot since then."

"I'm reminded every day," Hermione said as she began to stir in the large pot with one hand and then flip the stir fry in the skillet with the other. She seemed like a professional chef in the kitchen however Harry knew that she was not exactly an excellent cook originally before she started to learn recipes from a cookbook. "Is Ginny coming over?" she asked over the sizzling sounds coming from the skillet.

"She said she would be out by seven," Harry answered, idly tracing his finger over the squared tiles of the countertop.

He saw her nod her head and was relieved. They fell into a companionable silence then. With Harry sitting by the counter, listening to the small, quick sizzles of the skillet and the bubbly noises of the pot as Hermione cooked away, he began to analyze the scene. They were being normal around each other; they were being the best friend they are as if they hadn't shared an intense kiss many nights ago, as if they hadn't shared it on a bed together, as if they hadn't slept on that same bed for a couple of hours before they went to the hospital. Everything was just the same but Harry did not feel comforted by this. It was unnatural. He had expected her to be direct with him about everything as soon as she saw him but she acted like she did not remember that night.

Was he supposed to feel sadden about this? Because he was uncertain if his heart is allowed to lurch and thrash around erratically at that thought. He could not mistake it as a reprieve from his many thoughts of the earlier days.

"How are things?" he asked shakily, barely audible.

Hermione turned to him. "Everything is well."

"Are you sure?" he urged on. "How is…?"

"He's doing fine," she sighed as she placed the lid over the pot and lowered the heat of the stove to medium before she went over to the counter, using her elbows to lean against it. "I visited him on the way home. No change – no signs of waking up."

"I see." Harry frowned.

"Thank you for the flowers you've been leaving him," Hermione said. "They're lovely."

Harry stayed silent, gazing down at his finger tracing the tile as his face suddenly became warm. He can only hope it was not noticeable on his cheeks or his ears.

Hermione giggled pleasantly. "Yes, Harry, I know they're from you. Don't ask me how, I just know."

"Overly confident, aren't you?"

"No. I just know you well."

Harry grinned but he never raised his eyes up to her. "Well, you're welcome," he said with a shy laugh. "Sorry I haven't been around. I've just been busy with the cases and reports."

"I understand," Hermione said. "Everything has been hectic for me too."

"Speaking of cases…" Harry swallowed hard, the confidence he once had to speak to her properly suddenly vanishing with every word he spoke. "I got summoned by Cornell today…Told me about what you found in the Rowle Manor that one day."

"I'm not surprised," Hermione retorted. "It is standard protocol to report to the Head Auror information about their criminals. Are you surprised by the murder weapon?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "Indirect kill. Who would have thought?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, it was very smart of him," Hermione murmured. "Using the Imperius Curse on an elf and letting them take the fall. It's sickening."

"We got him where we want him. That's all that matters," Harry pointed out.

Hermione shook her head. "Not quite. We managed to prove he has no alibies and he is the real suspect behind his parent's murder but we don't have a concrete conclusion that he was not under the Imperius Curse. That's still the only obstacle we have in our way."

Harry chose this moment as an opportunity to ask, "Is that why you have the files of the autopsy?"

Hermione's eyes widen for a minute at his unexpected question, her lips parted in astonishment, but then she shook her head and sighed. "I was going to tell you-"

"When?"

"When I was done reviewing them," Hermione finished, a bit irked by his firm interruption. He should know that it annoyed her when people intruded her when she is talking. She finds that rude.

"We're supposed to review them together, Hermione," Harry stated strongly, finally raising his eyes up to meet hers. They were blazing. Burning out his frustrations and anger into the doors to her soul as he scowled at her. "I thought we already went through this last time. There's no excuse of me being gone this time."

Hermione glared at him, the calm and collected mask she wore finally ripped off from her face as she stood her ground. "Isn't there, Harry? If you were around then how come I haven't seen you for the past week?"

Harry opened his mouth to response but he was cut short when he realized that no words, no sound, was coming out. A lump was stuck in the middle of his throat, one full of tension and swelling up in suspense. He closed his mouth again but he continued to glower at her. He will not admit that he was shocked into silence by her question. He was not expecting that.

"You say you've been busy with cases and reports when in reality you were busy avoiding me," Hermione remarked. "You think I haven't noticed? Every time you saw me you turn the other way so I couldn't talk to you about the case. And I would see you leaving the hospital when I'm there. Sometimes I stay overnight and I see you. I thought you said I could turn to you when I needed someone?"

"I…I did…" Harry replied weakly. He could not find any way to reassure her of his promise to her. "I was just…it's just…"

"Just what, Harry?" Hermione sighed. "Is it because of what happened that night?"

Harry paused, nervous and cautious. He can feel his heart's pace accelerate into a frenzied rhythm as he thought back at that one night. The gentle music of the Cranberries playing in the background, the burning taste of the bourbon, the feel of her figure – which he had learned to be a lot smaller than she seemed - lying against his on the soft mattress of the bed, and then there is the forbidden taste of her lips being pressed against his in that addictive, roaring kiss. It was all so fast for him to be able to process it on the spot. He did not know what had happened until the next morning and he was left with running emotions he could not understand.

Hermione took his silence as a sign to continue. "Harry, that night…I don't know where to begin. I just hope you don't feel responsible for it."

"Uh…" Harry blinked. "I shouldn't?"

"No. I was the one who initiated it," Hermione said. "I've been thinking about it a lot since then and I feel awful for putting you on the spot like that. I've been so stressed with work and with my father hospitalized…I guess I took the first comfort I found and you were there. I wasn't right in the mind at that time and I acted out in the heat of the moment."

Harry did not talk; he simply drummed his fingers against the counter surface as he patiently listened to her.

"It won't make sense of me disappearing but I really needed someone at the time…I felt alone," she kept on. "You came when I needed that someone and we were in a place very special to me so I was nostalgic too…then with the alcohol…" she paused. "I was grateful of you being there – of you being able to find me even when I tried to not be found. I felt so many things that I was…vulnerable. I guess that's what made me do what I did but that seems like a poor excuse. I just hope that things won't get awkward between us any longer now."

Stress and vulnerability mixed with alcohol. Those were the main reasons why Harry thinks that caused her to be reckless and mindless, to be the exact opposite of what she is and he was right. He was glad to know that he did not need to feel so guilty of that night because she had told him he did not take advantage of her in any way. Yet he did not feel happy. Usually one should feel any sense of positivity when proven correct but he just felt disappointed and upset. He is confused by that. Why was he feeling so down for? He was getting his best friend back. He should be over the hills now.

Harry shook his head to momentarily distract himself from his inner conflicts and then reach one hand across the island to tentatively slip his fingers under her palm. He used his thumb to smooth over her knuckles as she glanced up at him, her eyes hopeful and expectant yet nervous. He could relate.

"You shouldn't be the only one to apologize," he said softly. "I'm just as guilty of that night. I didn't exactly pull away if you don't remember."

"I do."

"I am sorry."

"It's okay, Harry. I forgive you."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Am I forgiven?"

"Absolutely."

"That's a relief."

Harry grimly smiled at her and looked down at their lazily entwined hands. Her fingers were so dainty and delicate within his wide and hard ones. They look like they could easily break in a snap. He couldn't believe that these were the same hands that suffered through spells and smudged in blood nineteen years ago. Cute and simple yet powerful and complex. How extraordinary.

"Can I ask you something?" Hermione questioned.

"You just did," Harry replied smugly.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she let out a sarcastic laugh. " _Haha_. Funny. But no, I want to ask is that…why didn't you stop me?"

Harry nearly choked on his own saliva and his eyes almost bugged out of his eyes as he stared at her skeptically, his mouth snapping open incredulously. He was certainly not ready for such a question like that coming from her especially since they had indirectly agreed to leave behind the topic but mostly because he could not really find the answer to her question. He was still trying to figure that out himself.

"I…I don't know…" he mumbled. "Also heat in the moment? Curiosity?"

"Curiosity?" Hermione laughed and Harry relished in the sound of the tremendous sound.

"I don't see what's so funny about it," he grumbled.

"Sorry," she managed to say through her giggles as she used one hand to cover her mouth, trying to muffle them out with her palm but no avail. "It's just…I see no reason to be curious about that. I mean you already know about my kissing."

Harry raised a confused brow at her, his eyes twinkling in a quizzical manner.

"You mean you don't remember?" Hermione gaped at him.

Harry shook his head. "I don't even know what we're talking about."

"Harry," Hermione began. "You were my first kiss."

Harry pulled his hand away from hers and hopped off the stool, his eyes wide in surprise as he stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Hermione, that's impossible. Ron was – no, wait, Krum was your first kiss!" he stammered.

Hermione shook her head, an amused smirk twitched on her lips as she cupped her chin in her palm and raised a marble brow at him.

"You're messing with me aren't you?" Harry guessed, deadpanned.

"I swear I'm not!" she laughed. "I'm serious _you_ were my first kiss."

"Then how come I don't remember it?" he shot back. "If it was your first kiss then it must have been my first kiss too."

"Well, it was a long time ago – first year, to be more specific," she explained casually. "We had agreed to never speak of it again. Plus, you had a lot to worry about at the time so it must have been easy for you to forget. It was trivial compared to other things."

Harry knitted his brows together. He did not find his first kiss to be trivial. It was actually important to him. He lacked in social interactions when he was younger because of the Dursley's awful treatment on him and he wanted to share his first experiences in daily life passages with someone special to him because he wanted to be memorable. He had thought his first kiss was with his old school crush, Cho Chang, and he remembered how awkward it was to feel her tears lingering over their lips as they kissed while she struggled to not sob uncontrollably. He felt like he had forced her into the kiss, like he was torturing her with it, and that lowered his confident on his techniques until Ginny came around.

"I don't think it was trivial," Harry said honestly. "If we did…snog…then why?"

"Curiosity and gratitude," Hermione replied easily. "Curiosity on your part, gratitude on mine. Or perhaps it was both. I mostly remember it was in the common room the night before we left Hogwarts."

Then Harry suddenly remembered that night as if it had just happened yesterday; it had happened on the night after the End-of-Term Feast of their first year. He had stayed in the common room replaying the events that had happened that year when Hermione had gone down to find him there. He could not remember what types of conversations they had that led up to them kissing but he could make out the details at how much he was scared at the fact he was excited yet worried. He remembered her rose cheeks, her nervous look – that was the first time he saw her not being confident in her abilities. She was unsure, worrisome, and a little insecure. Almost like she really cared about it like the many assignments and exams.

Thinking back at it, Harry knows that was common among eleven-year-olds. Harry then grimaced when he realized that they had never told Ron about their late night escapade. Though, it probably does not matter now but Harry felt like if Ron were to find out that he had stolen the very first kiss of his wife before he could then he'd probably throw an unnecessary fit about it. Ron probably did not like Hermione more than a friend at that time or maybe he did – Harry did not know. He just couldn't trust on helpless hope that Ron would keep a cool head if he found out about this tiny secret that could or could not be terrible.

He cleared his throat and turned back to Hermione. "I'm sorry I didn't remember."

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said with a chuckle as she pushed back from the counter and went back to the stove. She did not notice Harry walked after her until she saw him standing beside her at the heated stove as she checked the warming meals. "It was a long time ago," she added whilst she began to search through the cabinets to take out several plates and bowls.

"I suppose that's why you said my kissing is more than satisfactory?" Harry asked with a teasing smirk as he took the plate and bowl from her hands, his eyes gazing at her with a devious glint. He placed them on the counter next to the stove.

Hermione rolled her eyes, though a smile was present on her face. "Well, you've certainly improved."

"What's that supposed to mean? Was I that bad back then?"

"We were eleven, Harry. No child was an expert at snogging at that age," Hermione said. She went over to the icebox to pull out two bags of fresh vegetables and produced one can of carbonated caffeine soda.

"I beg to differ," Harry chuckled as he took the bags from Hermione's hands and took out the contents on the cutting board on the counter before he pulled open a nearby drawer for a knife out of instinct. It had been a while but he still knew where was where. He began to skillfully dice up the peppers and onions. "And since when do you drink coffee soda?"

"Since the beginning of the case," she sighed while popping the can open and then taking a tentative sip. "It has taken a toll on me."

"And here I thought you weren't becoming addicted," Harry said jokingly, earning a playful smack on his shoulder from behind. "Hey! Careful! I have a knife."

Hermione ignored that. "It really isn't that bad," she admitted sheepishly. "It's unhealthy because of the caffeine and soda but the taste is delicious." She emphasized her point by taking another sip of the can before licking her lips again. "You have something against addicts like me, Mr. Potter?"

"No," Harry chuckled, shaking his head, as he lifted the cutting board to the skillet and pushed the shredded vegetables into the skillet with the knife, causing them to make a satisfying sizzling sound before he began with the other set.

Hermione smiled at him warmly as she watched him cut up the vegetables effortlessly and adding them into the steaming skillet. She could have just whipped out her wand and cast an enchantment for the food to be cooked by itself but she enjoyed to have a domestic aura in her home as odd as it might sound coming from a witch like her. It was something she grew up with before magic came into her life and she'd love to keep it as part of her life whether it is through her or from another. Seeing Harry act so chivalrous and independent in the culinary arts was outstanding for her because she felt like she was being able to see how he used to be before he discovered he was a wizard only without the terrible treatment from his former guardian family.

She can almost picture it; a young boy with long messy hair, cracked round glasses from the brutality of his cousin, and his lanky body hidden behind a set of oversized clothes. It was horrible to think someone so small and defenseless had to go through a daily routine of constant bitterness from his own blood but it was wonderful to see that his traumatic past was not able to affect him terrible enough to be the lovable and marvelous man she had grown up with. She thanked her ancestors for this miracle.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice broke her out of her thoughts and she blinked to see he was still staring down at the vegetable he was currently cutting but with a sour expression on his face that left her curious.

"Uh, yes?"

"We need to tell Ron about that night, don't we?" he asked quietly, unenergetically.

Hermione frowned and looked down at her feet. "Yes."

"He's not going to be so thrilled," he muttered.

"Who would be, Harry?" Hermione countered. "I just hope he will understand when I explain it to him. As much as he's grown up, he still has the emotional range of a teaspoon."

Harry nodded in agreement but his face never changed. "He has a good reason for it this time. Do you want me to be there when you tell him?"

"No, that's fine," she said. "You should think more on how to tell Ginny."

Harry frowned as he swallowed hard. He had not thought about his wife today. He had been engrossed on Hermione and how to settle down on what happened that one night that he did not think about how he was going to explain the kiss to Ginny. She was understanding and considerate but she had quite the temper whenever she is stepped over. Right now, he knew he did something beyond from stepping over her; he had stomped onto her trust and faith in him as if it was just another pebble on the ground. He had his moments of discussions with Ginny before and they would eventually reunite later on but their reasons behind their previous arguments seem petty compared to the situation he was stuck in. He knows the same goes for Hermione and Ron. Maybe even worse.

"We should tell them tonight," Hermione said. "They'll be here together so we'll talk to them after supper…when the kids are in another room. Agreed?"

Harry nodded. "Better sooner than later," he muttered under his breath as he tried to keep his focus settled on the lettuce and tomatoes he is chopping up rather than the disturbing sting acidly burning in the pit of his stomach. For some unfathomable reason, her words were like fire to him, dissipating all the good feelings in him and leaving behind a field of burnt ashes. It was horribly painful for him and he did not know why. Lately, he did not seem to know everything that's been happening and it irritated him to not understand it. He had not been so lost like this since his first year when he found out he was a wizard.

Then, two small hands were placed on his shoulders and a cheek was resting against his strong back, making him stiffen by the sudden physical contact.

"I hope this doesn't make anything awkward between us, Harry," Hermione sighed softly behind him, her breath seeping through the fabric of his shirt and tickling his skin, the warmth making him shiver lightly but not noticeably for her.

Harry swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and shook his head. "No…it doesn't."

"Good. I'm going to go and check on the kids. They've been too quiet."

Hermione stretched up on her toes to lean over his shoulder to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek, almost close to the sideburn by his ear, and then turned to walk out of the kitchen.

Harry had stopped chopping the vegetables as soon he felt her lips on his face – those same lips he had now kissed twice in his life and could not stop himself from reacting guiltily at how amazing the soft flesh felt against his skin. It is bad of him for enjoying these simple gestures with such elation? Should he feel awful for wanting to feel it again? Mostly, should he feel any remorse for wanting to relive his first kiss with her again?

Once again, Harry did not know and he was left in angered frustration.

* * *

Dinner had finished in less than an hour with Harry helping Hermione and the kids being distracted with their play activities in Hugo's bedroom. Ron was the one who usually prepared the afternoon meal because he would be the one who arrived home earlier than Hermione and food would be ready by the time she was out. Hermione would sometimes cook dinner on the days she is the first to leave her job but those days were rare and she had a bad tendency to following the steps of a recipe precisely that it would take her an hour or two to finish. She was not slow, she was just attentive with what she does.

Harry was preparing the salad while Hermione was placing plates and glasses on the dining table. He had looked through the entrance to the room whilst his hands mindlessly diced up the tomato; he can see her gently lay the fine china with a quick clatter and then added the silverware rightfully beside them, displaying them as part of a five star restaurant. There were several others floating behind her, moving along with her whenever she walked further ahead. She was strict on her presentations in the smallest things she was held responsible for and dinner was no exception.

She had changed her outfit a couple of minutes ago. She did not go overboard. She just had a simple light blue shirt with an OBEY logo, a pair of skinny jeans, and flats. The look was simple yet understated and fit Hermione very nicely. Less was so much more when it came to her. It was natural which is beautiful. That is what made Hermione beautiful at these years. Behind the busy hair, the school robes, the tower of heavy books, and the bossy demeanor, there was a simple girl now woman.

"Ouch!"

Harry had been too distracted from watching Hermione set up the table that he had forgotten he had been making the salad and ended up nicking his finger with the knife, which had fallen to the floor.

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione, having heard his quick yelp and the clinging ring of the knife blade hit the floor, as she made her way back into the kitchen to approach him. She took his hand tenderly in hers and began to inspect the tiny wound seeping out a small blob of his blood.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Just a cut," he assured, already feeling the pain subside.

"Hmm, here," Hermione said. She held his hand in one palm and held another hand above his finger, pointing the middle finger slightly to the wound. " _Curationum_ ," she recited and Harry felt the torn skin mend together, stitching away the traces of the cut.

"Wow," he breathed in awe. "New spell?"

"Yes," she said. "Invented it around '09. Figure it be a great way to heal up small wounds and save potions for larger ones. You won't believe how much I had to use it on Rose and Hugo."

"That's brilliant," he praised, still stunned by the incredibility of her abilities. He remembered in their fifth year when Hermione had invented her own jinx on the sign-up parchment to reveal those who would betray their group and it came out successful when it was casted on Marietta. It amazed him how she was able to start inventing spells and charms so soon before she even started taking N.E.W.T level classes. Not that she really needed it; she was already able to master the Protean Charm on the same year after all and that was N.E.W.T level standard.

"I suppose," Hermione laughed shyly. She was still not used to receiving positive comments of her achievements no matter how much she heard it from Ron or Harry.

Then she did something she had never done before and left Harry to widen in eyes in shock; she gingerly lifted his hand up to her mouth, gently wrapping her lips around the tip of his finger where the cut had been. Harry's heart raced recklessly, almost like a ticking bomb was about to explode in a matter of seconds, as he felt how moist her lips were and savored the sensation of cotton softness of her tongue. When she applied a light suction, he thought he would have lost consciousness right then and there. Does she know what she was doing to him?

After she pulled away, she looked up at him. "All better?"

"Y-y-yeah," he stammered, his cheeks flaring in a bright red shade almost as equal to a Weasley hair color. "Thanks."

"No problem. Now stop being a baby. It's only a cut," she said teasingly as she took the bowls of mashed potatoes and gravy from the counter before she carried them to the dining room.

"Sure," Harry grumbled, taking the knife from the floor and later rinsing it in the sink nearby before he went back to the chopped vegetables as he tried to slow his heart rate back to a normal pace.

He was lifting the cutting board over a bowl to slide the tomatoes in when he heard the front door slam open and multiple voices echo inside the hallway. His first instinct was to reach for his wand but then he heard a familiar voice call out to him from behind.

"Harry!"

He turned around just in time to see a recognizable red blob come into his view and felt his back thud against the edge of the counter as he was pushed onto his. Two arms were tied around his neck, hair strands tickled his jaw and neck – he could barely make out the jumbling words that came out what he heard to be a woman's voice. More specifically, Mrs. Weasley's voice.

"Harry, dear, it is so nice to see you again! You look much more grown up than last time!" Molly rejoiced as she pulled back from him enough for him to see her bright face and lightly cupped his face, her thumbs rubbing over his jawline. "You're starting to show. Have you shaved lately?"

Harry laughed at her smothering attitude and shook his head as he lowered her hands from his face. "It's nice to see you too, mum."

Her eyes twinkled.

"Oi, mum, let the bloke breathe!" another voice retorted jokingly as footsteps were heard stepping into the kitchen. Harry glanced over Molly's head to see the matching red locks of his lovable twin brother-in-law come to view as he walked towards him. Behind him, Harry can see Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Granger talking amongst themselves.

"Not even ten minutes in and you're already smothering him as usual," George joked.

"Hey George," Harry grinned as he gave the twin a quick one-arm hug. "How are things?"

"Shop is going great," George said. "Sales are piling up so we need to get more orders on our supplies and we're getting a lot more advertisements on our products. Right now we're about to negotiate with this one company that wants to merge with ours and double the sales of our profits."

"That's fantastic," Harry said as he patted George's shoulder, encouraging.

"As fantastic it could be with him being owner," said another feminine voice close by George. Harry had to peer over George's shoulder to see the dark hair of his former classmate and sister-in-law, Angelina. "It's shocking to know that Ron is actually keeping him in check or else the shop would probably be twenty feet underground."

"Ouch, you wound me, dear Angel," George said in mocking pain.

Angelina rolled her eyes before she approached Harry and gave him a quick hug. "Hello Harry. How is life being an Auror?"

"Adventurous," he replied. "Never a dull moment."

"How is the case?" Angelina asked. "I read an article about it and things seem to be running smoothly."

"Er, it's a bit more complicated than it seems," Harry said. "But I think it will be fine. Hermione found a lot of useful facts and evidence against Rowle. We just need to prove he wasn't under the Imperius Curse."

"I thought for sure he would be sent to Azkaban as soon as possible," Molly intruded.

"He will be soon." Hermione's voice rang through the room.

Harry whirled around to see Hermione enter the kitchen with a welcoming smile and he was taken aback by the grateful lope of her walk as she made her way over to Molly to greet her with a warm embrace. He was dumbfounded at the fact that he had been enchanted by something as simple as her usual strides and was left almost melting into a puddle on the spot by the magnificence he was beginning to see from his best friend. What was happening to him?

"Where's Arthur?" Hermione asked Molly.

"Oh, he had to stay behind today," Molly answered reluctantly. "Something about charmed books and school supplies. He's on his way to Hogwarts now to confiscate them."

Hermione looked uncomfortable at the news, visibly grimacing.

Molly noticed this and smiled comfortingly. "Don't worry, dear. I'm sure Rose did not get caught up with it. She does have your brains, doesn't she?"

"I sure hope so," Hermione smirked playfully. "She already has her father's habits of leaving her clothes around the house. I don't think I can handle her following his footsteps when it comes to school."

"Oi, I'm right here!" Ron said loudly as he made his way over to his wife and slides one arm around her waist to pull her side against him.

"I know," Hermione shrugged, the smirk never leaving her face. "Just because you are, doesn't mean I'm going to sugarcoat it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Geez, you missed me that much? It's only been an hour." He lowered his head to give her a kiss on her cheek, making her giggly lightly.

Harry found his feet more interesting now after witnessing that. His hand jerked when another gripped onto it and he glanced at his side to see Ginny looking up at him strangely, her eyebrows furrowed while her lips were curled down. Her eyes were wandering over his face that made him fidget under her stare.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You seem…out of it."

"Just tired," he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders.

"We could just leave now," Ginny insisted. "I'm absolutely knackered too. Been a long day at work."

Harry shook his head. "It's fine. It'd be rude if we left now. Plus, it's been a long time since we got to do this. Lily missed Hugo and we missed everyone. Might as well enjoy it now."

"I suppose," she said. Then Ginny breathed deeply through her nose. "It smells fantastic," she sighed happily. "Is that pork pie I smell?"

"Yes," Hermione responded. "Just took out a fresh batch."

"I'm going to go and get the kids," Ginny insisted, already desiring to taste a homemade dessert she had favorite since she was a toddler. She gave Harry a quick kiss to the cheek before she disappeared from the kitchen. Mrs. Granger had followed her.

"Those pork pies will be gone by the time she comes back," George commented with a chuckle, rubbing his hands together greedily and deviously, as he stalked down the heavenly scent of the wanted desert into the dining room.

"George, you know better than to start eating before the rest of the family!" Molly called out after her eldest son. When she noticed he did not react to her words, she let out a disgruntled grunt before she trekked after him in the living room, the tip of her tongue already prepared to begin scolding him as if he was a young child again.

"Here we go again," Angelina sighed as she shook her head and followed after her mother-in-law. Hermione had chosen to copy her actions, deciding that perhaps she might need the assistance to calm down Molly and to pull a hungered George from the afternoon meal.

Watching her figure disappear beyond the frames of the doorway, Ron immediately turned to Harry and pulled him farther from the dining room entrance by the arm. Harry was bewildered by the fact he was letting Ron drag him out to the main hallway without any resistance until they were found standing in front of the coat closet and Ron lets go of him arm to face him directly.

"What is it, Ron?" Harry inquired. A part of him was worried of him knowing about the sinful kiss he had with Hermione but then he made himself relax when he remembered that Hermione had not yet mentioned it to him.

"Remember when I told you I needed to talk to you about something?"

"Yes." Harry nodded. "About what though?"

"Well, you know how everything has been around with Hermione's dad being in the hospital," Ron started. "The kids haven't gotten any better about…neither has Hermione…and since tomorrow is her birthday-"

Harry had to suppress an intake of breath and to resist widen his eyes in shock. September 19th was the next day. He did not know that Hermione's birthday was close by. Now that he thought about it; he had been too into trying to escape from Hermione's clutches by throwing himself into his work and to not think about their kiss that he did not realize how time had passed by him so quickly. He did not even know what he would buy as a gift for her. He knows he could not buy her another book or organizer like he did on the previous two birthdays because that would seem unthoughtful and cheap of him to get her the same thing again. He was stumped.

"Y…yeah," Harry stuttered shakily. Luckily, Ron did not catch the hesitation in his words.

"I was thinking of maybe taking her to this Muggle amusement park I heard Bill take Victoire once for her seventh birthday," Ron continued. "I think it's called Disney World…it's somewhere in the States…and I think it would good to take Hermione away from here. Away from her work and everything. Even if it's for a day."

Harry did not speak. He had heard about the amusement park before; it was located somewhere in Orlando, Florida, a place he had once traveled to for a mission to capture a wanted Snatcher. He had not seen the attraction in person but he had heard a lot of positivity from wizards and witches who had gone there for vacation with their families. It sounded like a friendly environment, an easy place for kids to get lose into through the rides and sugary treats, and definitely a great way to relieve unwanted stress with the concession stands serving adult drinks. Some even say it felt like they were taking a vacation within a vacation if possible.

"I already talked to Kingsley about it and he agreed," Ron said. That would explain what his errand was. "Do you think it's a good idea?"

"If…you feel like it's the right thing…then you should go with it," Harry managed to squeeze out through the thickness of his voice. His neck was pulsing roughly as if his heart had been lodged in the middle and he had cleared his throat to pronounce his words better, "I'm sure she would love it."

"I can only hope," Ron murmured, uneasy. "I want you to come. With Ginny and the kids. The more the merrier right?"

"Are you sure?"

"I don't mind and I'm sure Hermione won't either. Hugo would definitely be all for it if it means being able to spend more time with Lily. The six of us together will probably help her get her mind off of things for tomorrow. She needs this, Harry."

Harry sighed, passing a hand through his hair. "I know."

"So will you come?" Ron asked, his tone high and hopeful.

"I'll need to talk to Ginny about it tonight and owl Grumps to reschedule my visit with Proudfoot," Harry said before he could stop himself. He felt ridiculous for accepting the invitation without a second thought. He should have declined it to avoid any possible future awkwardness between him and Hermione. He wanted everything to cool down before he felt like they could be able to be in the same area again especially when she is going to confess tonight.

Ron grinned widely. "Thanks mate. I owe you one."

"Out of the million?" Harry raised a brow.

Ron laughed. "Sure. Anyway, I should go see what's taking Ginny with the kids. I'm hungry!"

With a small pat on Harry's shoulder, Ron bounded up the staircase up to the second floor and glided around the corner of the wall, leaving Harry behind in his thoughts.

Harry stood there alone in the middle of the hallway, contemplating over what had transpired. A part of him was taking in pleasure at the fact that he had straightened things out with Hermione, that he is able to be reunited with his close family once again, that his daughter was becoming lively again with her wish of seeing her closest cousin again, and that the Rowle case seemed to getting closer to cease. But the other part of him was in distraught; Hermione had not seen his kiss as anything more other than a seek for comfort and a reliever for stress, his moment alone with her had been taken away as soon as the Weasley family had charged in the house, and then there was Ron who had planned to take his wife away from her troubles to an amusement park that was labeled as the most magical place on Earth.

It bothered Harry…

…it enraged Harry…

…it hurts Harry…

…and for the first time in a while, Harry knew the answer was because he was not in Ron's position to be doing those wonderful things with Hermione.

He just didn't know why he felt that way. And that frustrated him even more.

* * *

 **A:N:** I figured since years have passed since the war then new spells, charms, and potions would be invented during the time. Here are the translations to the spells mentioned:

 _Revelabit_ \- Reveal

 _Curationum_ \- Healing

Well those are the spells of this chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading it.

 **Please Review!**


	8. The First Notice

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the character and locations used it in, or the songs mentioned.

 **A:N:** The next few days I won't be on for a while due to personal reason but I promise that as soon as I'm back on the grid, I'll have a chapter ready for you.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _Anyone can see you and I are just the same_

 _If you try your best,_

 _you don't succeed,_

 _you try harder again_

 _And all I want to know is_

 _when we were close that night_

 _Did you take the time to close your eyes_

 _and place your lips to mine_

 _When you move in for the first kiss_

 _Make sure you don't miss_

First Kiss; Ryan O' Shaughnessy

* * *

 _"But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more."_

 _\- Katniss Everdeen; Catching Fire_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: The First Notice**

" _Ready?"_

" _No."_

" _It's okay. Neither am I."_

" _So why are we doing this?"_

" _Don't worry about it. We both agree to forget about it afterwards, right?"_

" _Y-yes, I suppose."_

" _Okay. Now close your eyes."_

Harry's eyes were beginning to sting the longer he kept staring at the flickering flames of the fireplace, watching the tips of the heat whip into nothing. He laid his head on the cushion next to him, his gaze never breaking, and held the quilt tighter to his trembling behind, making sure that no part of him was left unwrapped. He didn't want to be exposed to the cold. But he was tingling to feel that heat.

He jumped a bit at the sound of glasses clanging from afar but he soon relaxed when he remembered it was Ginny in the kitchen making some late night drinks for them. He exhaled and slouched into the cushion. He didn't move again. Not even when he heard several footsteps coming to his way, closer and closer with each step, until a figure came in front of him, blocking his view of the careless fire. His eyes adverted upward, moving for the first time since they settled here.

A glass containing a reddish liquid inside was held in front of him by Ginny, her face openly expressing her warmth and adoration she held for him. He simply took the glass from her hands, his fingers shivering under the impact of the cold air he kept himself sheltered from, and stared at it as he held it upon his lap.

The dinner had run smoothly for the evening. It was eventful and humorous; George with his clever wits, Molly trying to keep everything in control with his children fighting over the last piece of pork pie, the kids flinging small pieces of food at each other not-so-discreetly, Ginny talking to Angelina about their careers and their future plans for their awaiting scheduled vacations. There was even Hermione scolding Ron for shoveling his food in his mouth like a twelve year old because she worried he would be passed down that habit of his to their son – except he already had – and Harry had laughed at the irony of those two.

Harry would be lying if he said he did wish to leave as soon as possible because he really didn't. He had missed having these days when everything was carefree and flowed along like music with these wonderful people he had learned to love as he grew. It always showed him how amazing it was that he had developed into who he is because of them, because of what he went through with them. Through fire, deaths, and heartache caused by them or to them, he is the Harry Potter of today. He wouldn't change that even if he was offered a chance to leave one lifetime to the next. He would be perfectly fine to die with his memories of them.

But right now, his memories left him befuddled and bewildered. Those voices he had heard in his head were of his and Hermione's. He had heard snippets of their conversation of the memory of his first kiss with her and he assumed it was before they had initiated it. He could not remember it wholly so he had not figured out what had made them do it and the vague answers that Hermione had given him early were not helpful. He wanted to know why he would kiss her and why she would kiss him. Maybe it would help him understand why he has been feeling such strange emotions around Hermione and towards Ron. He had been feeling like this ever since the time Lily had asked him why he did not end up together with Hermione and the sensation had been getting stronger since that night at her parent's old home.

It was wrong to be this puzzled over someone in a committed marriage with one of his best friends and was also his sister-in-law. He should not feel so bothered by Ron for the things he does for Hermione and he should not feel disappointed by Hermione's reasons for kissing him that night then being able to settle things down back to normal between them.

Prior at dinner, Harry could not seem to stop himself from glancing at Hermione once in a while. His eyes had a powerful urge drawn to her whenever she laughed, smiled, or added a snide remark. He was acting as if he had seen her for the first time in the twenty six years he's known her; he felt pathetic acting that way but he had no self-control over it. He had dared himself to think she was enchanting as magic and later scold at himself for being absurd. But could he really help himself? He suddenly has these newfound feelings he never knew he could have for his best friend. He felt odd. Almost like he was a deer caught n headlights and was frozen in fear of being hit.

Harry was the deer trapped, Hermione was the lights flashing at him, and Ron is the car that would hit him once his wife tells him about that unforgettable night. Yet, knowing this will be occurring soon, his thoughts on Hermione never stopped.

Right now, he was seated on one of the couches in the common room of the Weasley house, watching the flickering flames of the fireplace with a trance expression and a glass of wine. Ginny had sat down next to him, leaning against his side with her head laid on his shoulder and one hand with the same drink, while he had automatically wrapped one arm around her out of instinct. This is a common position between them for affection, something he was used to. He felt the tremors and the uplifting sensation by this simple act. That relaxed him.

"Wonderful sight, isn't it? Seeing them like this again," Ginny said happily before she took a sip of her wine, the gloss on her lips leaving a faint mark on the transparent glass, before she licked her lips. "I'm glad we stayed."

Harry glanced around the common room. There was a rock and roll song blasting through the gramophone horn, the record whirling across the needle, and the kids were seen jumping around together in the center of room, their hands linked as they twisted in circles, laughing loudly and freely. George and Mrs. Granger were seen moving along with them, probably making sure that they do not harm themselves when they tumble over. Angelina was sitting on another couch with Molly, watching her husband dance along with the kids while she spoke with her mother-in-law, who was also amused to see one of her eldest sons act immaturely with the toddlers. She was still hung over the loss of the other half of the troublesome duo and Harry understood that is a pain that a mother will never get over with.

Ron or Hermione were not seen anywhere and Harry decided to not dwindle over that face because he knew that he would end up overthinking about their absence and he was already getting a migraine by just thinking about his conflicted emotions towards Hermione. Although, a small portion of him was alerted that she might be explaining to him about the kiss in private but he refused to think about it any longer.

"It was worth it," Harry finally responded to his wife with a nod. He took a large gulp of his wine.

"I really missed this," Ginny said. "Being able to be with everyone again…it feels like a long time hasn't it? Last time we were all like this was a few months ago – almost a year."

Harry nodded. "Kind of reminds me of Christmas back at 2010. Only George isn't hexed with dog ears and nose." He eyed at his wife. "And poor Ron isn't a victim of throwing up frogs."

Ginny snickered. "They asked for it! They should know better than to have Lily on a broom. Poor girl was frightened that night – she wouldn't stop crying."

"Thank Merlin for Molly being there," Harry said.

"She was no help to them either. She left them that way until after New Year's," Ginny retorted. "You have to admit it was funny watching Ron struggling to eat. Every bite came out another frog!"

An image of a disgusted Ron staring at a newly formed frog falling into his plate came into Harry's mind and he bursts out into a laughing fit at the memory.

"You really know how to make Christmas memorable, sweetheart," he told her through his laughs, never ceasing.

Ginny grinned. "Just don't mess with my children." She sipped in the last drops of her wine before she leaned forward to place the glass on the coffee table and then leaned back into her husband's arms with her arms folded over her stomach.

Harry swirled the remains of his wine in his glass, watching the colors of velvet red and dark purple swirl around like a whirlpool. "Speaking of the kids…" he started, feeling Ginny's head shift and the pressure of her eyes on him. "Has Ron told you about the trip he has planned for tomorrow? For Hermione's birthday?"

"No. I actually didn't realize it was tomorrow with everything that's been going on. What about it?"

"Well, he wants to take us and the kids to Florida for Disney World. It's his present for Hermione but he thinks it's better to bring us along. Mostly to have Lily there for Hugo and to keep Hermione from thinking about her father. I told him I'd talk to you about it, so…"

Ginny grimaced. "I'm not sure I can go."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Cuffe is already doing the celebration of my success of sales so I highly doubt he'll let me have a day off. He's not a horrible man but he's not too generous. He doesn't give anybody special treatment even if they're his best," Ginny explained reluctantly.

"Oh," Harry sighed. He actually wanted to go to Florida. He hadn't been able to travel anywhere outside of Britain in a while. But he could not deny that he also wanted to go because Hermione was going too.

Then Ginny stood up from his arms and looked down at him. "Let me send him a Patronus. I'll see if maybe I could convince him. Make sure Lily doesn't go overboard." She ruffled his hair playfully, making him chuckle at her childishness, as she walked around the couch and made her way through the archway to the main hallway.

Harry downed the rest of his wine and placed his glass next to Ginny's before he leaned back, tilting his head into the cushion as he closed his eyes, seeing this as an opportunity to gain a few minutes of rest with everyone occupied with their own activities. But unfortunately, he was interrupted on his way to a resting dreamland when a hand had landed on his shoulder and he started as he popped his eyes open in alarm.

"Relax, mate," Ron's voice said. "It's only me."

Harry groaned as he brought one hand up to rub his eyes beneath his glasses, hunching over with his elbows leaning against his knees. The space beside him had sunk down when he pulled his hand away from his eyes, blinked twice, and then looked to his side to see Ron slouched into the plush, laidback and calm. It unnerved Harry to see how he was normal and at the same time it made him feel safe. He couldn't choose which he should feel most.

"I bumped into Ginny," Ron spoke. "Hope Cuffe will let her go."

Harry nodded, scratching the nape of his neck. "Did you tell Hermione?"

"Yeah," Ron grinned, nodding his head to the center of the room. "She acted like she didn't fancy the idea of missing work but I know she's excited about it."

Harry followed his best friend's stare and a smile broke out on his face at the change of the scene, his eyes softening in a tender glisten without him realizing it.

Hermione was finally present in the room with the others. She was merged along with the cluttered dancing of the kids and her brother-in-law, laughing at their hilarious antics. She was the only one singing the lyrics of the song playing so Harry knew that the record belonged to her and it must have been owned by her father before her. Her hair was pinned back in a messy bun, a few tendrils leaning over her face which would move along with the movements of her head as she jumped along with the children, holding their hands as they whirled around in circles. She was not exactly an expert but she was enjoying her time with her niece and son that it did not matter whether she was a typical dancer.

Harry had known that Hermione would be an overprotective and loving mother the day she announced she was pregnant with Rose. She had shown how she loves unconditionally and how far she is willing to go to keep another protected even if it meant sacrificing her life for them. She had done it so many times for him during their days at Hogwarts; first year she went through the tasks to help Harry to protect the Sorcerer's Stone, second year she got petrified by the basilisk, third year she had almost gotten whipped by the Whomping Willow tree and nearly mauled by Remus Lupin when he had transformed into a wolf, fourth year she took the shunning of their friends for him when he was blamed for being a glory hog, fifth year she had went far to trick Dolores Umbridge into being captured, sixth year she had invented her own jinx to expose those who betrayed the DA, and then seventh year she had went through the hellish ways of the war.

Hermione had gone through at that for him, and he knows she would go beyond that for her children. It was in her nature to put those she loves first. She would die for Rose and Hugo. He admired her for that.

"It's about time she chooses to spend a day with us," Ron said, interrupting Harry from his thoughts and he was gratefully relieved of the intrusion.

Harry glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

Ron sighed and weaved his fingers through his hair, lowering his hand to scratch his somewhat stubble cheek. "Lately…Hermione has been so focused on working on the case and other things at her job that she's hardly here. And when she comes home it's usually around one or two in the morning. Sometimes I find Hugo waiting up for her when he should be sleeping but…she's just never home. There's hardly an adventure now with her always gone all the time."

Harry's mind reverted back to the night when Hermione had stayed for his offer of dinner. _And with Rose gone…There's hardly going to be an adventure in the house now._ She had said something similar to what Ron just told him which shocks him to see that they had been thinking commonly without the other knowing. They usually have different perspectives on situations and end up discussing about it until one of them admits they are wrong. It was their way to communicate until they solve what it is they're arguing over.

"Are you – are you and Hermione having problems?" Harry asked.

Ron let his eyes drop from his family in front of him as he lowered his head between his shoulders. He took a moment of silence before he lifted his stare to the family again. "Yeah. We had a row a few days before her father went to the hospital. We haven't finished talking about it."

"Is that why you're doing the trip tomorrow?"

Ron shrugged. "No, it's her present. But I just want things to ease up a bit, you know? Get the tension smoothed over. When everything is okay again…I still want to talk to her about her constant hours away from home. She doesn't seem to get that her being away is affecting Hugo really bad. Do you know how it feels to hear him always asking where she is? Or why she barely ever home?"

Harry nodded. He did not know what it truly felt to hear his children asking where Ginny was nightly. She was always the last person Lily would see before she went to sleep but Harry would still be at work. Those nights when he would be home early from work would mostly happen once a month. Sometimes he would have his night when he and Ginny have hushed conflicts about his hours and he understood Ron on that part very well.

"I'm starting to think it's her way of coping with Rose leaving," Ron continued, oblivious to the contemplating expression that had taken over Harry's face. "It would make sense if it wasn't for before but I think she would try to come home as soon as possible to even be in Rose's room – not away from it."

Harry raised a brow. "What do you mean by _before_? What does _before_ have anything to do with now?"

Ron pursed his lips, his eyes watching the family for another long lengthy moment. Then he reach one hand to clutch onto Harry by the sleeve as he rose up from the couch, dragging his best friend along with him whilst he trudged out of the common room. Harry took the last second to glance over his shoulder to his family with secret caution of their unplanned escape and his eyebrows pushed together in confusion to spot a look of worrisome appear on Hermione's face being sent to his direction before it disappeared with the wall.

As Ron pulled him, Harry was perplexed by Hermione's expression. He was not certain if perhaps he had saw was what he really did see or if he had imagined it. But why would he imagine Hermione looking concern as soon as he and Ron leave the room? The kids were okay – free of any physical harm or danger. Mrs. Weasley was engaged with a pleasant conversation with Angelina and George was happily distracted by his niece and nephew with their dancing. Everyone was having a graceful time together so Hermione should have no reason to look like that.

As for it being directed towards him…should _he_ be concern over that? She could have hidden it from all eyes in the room but she was, no doubt, very open about the look being for him. She might have tried to wordlessly contact with him – it was a common and indescribable trait between them that came along through their years of friendship. Unfortunately, whatever it was that she tried to tell him had not reached him because he was left complexes and befuddled.

Once Ron had guided them back into the kitchen area, he let go of Harry and immediately went to the icebox, yanking the door open without sparing Harry another glance.

"What's this about?" Harry demanded as Ron pulled out two bottles of butterbeer and slammed the door open.

"You have to promise me you won't mention a word to Hermione that I told you this - or to anyone else," Ron said firmly, his voice commanding and so stern that it shocked Harry to hear such a tone from him. He hand Harry one of the bottle before he uncorked his and took a large gulp.

"About…?"

Ron sighed, scratching his head. "When we had Rose, everything was great. I just got to be an Auror and Hermione was already appointed as Undersecretary. Everything was balanced especially with mum helping us by taking care of Rose while we worked – we were financially okay – we had food on the table – sometimes Hermione and I would shag when we can - _everything_. But then…something changed. Hermione started coming home even more late than me. We used to pick up Rose together from mum's but when I went to her house, I would be the only one there now and even when I put Rose to sleep, Hermione still wasn't home."

Harry nodded silently, his interest in the unknown history reaching new heights as he listened to Ron. A part of him was furious to not have known about this secret patch of his best friend's lives and that he had not been notified of their struggles with their first born and did not reach out to him or Ginny for assistance. But the rational part of him understood that they did not want to burden him or Ginny with their responsibilities when they already have their own with James and Albus at the time.

Ron kept going, "I didn't let it bother me the first few months and Rose was only a year old so she did not understand. But then…those months turned into years. During those years we had Hugo and mum was getting too old to take care of a baby and a kid so I had to resigned from being an Auror and started working with George at the shop. Either way I was going to do that to help him out. But aside from that," he sighed. "At some point, I thought that Hermione might have been seeing someone. We had a row about it one night and we did not speak to each other for two months after that. Things were still the same – me picking up from kids and Hermione not being home."

Ron trailed off to take another gulp of his butterbeer. Harry did not say anything yet, his hand burning a bit from the frigid glass of the bottle he was holding, and placed it on the counter nearby. He felt that Ron was not done speaking.

"It was a bloody nightmare for me having to live in the same house as her and not speaking to her as if she didn't exist – Rose saw the whole thing. She saw how much I hated being that way with Hermione and sometimes would try to make me feel better. Slowly, she was starting to understand what was going on with us but she pointed the blame to Hermione," Ron added. "She doesn't say it but I can see it with the way she acts around Hermione or towards her. That's why she's so close to me. I tried to explain to her why she should be that way towards her mother, that it hurts Hermione to see her own daughter being that way, and that it was normal for parent to squabble but unfortunately she was stubborn-"

"Like you?" Harry said. "Like Hermione?"

"Yes," Ron frowned.

"So…Rose _resents_ Hermione?" Harry guessed.

"Not really," Ron answered. "She doesn't hate her or anything like that. But she agrees with me when it comes to Hermione having a choice to come home and staying at work. She's angry but she doesn't hate Hermione. She feels like she hasn't had her mother there for years until a few weeks ago. I can only hope she can see how hard it was for Hermione to let her go."

Harry looked at him expectantly as he reached for his butterbeer again, popped the lid, and then took a sip.

"Sometime around Hugo was born, she seemed to come home as much as she could and that actually hurt Rose more," Ron said. "She thinks that Hermione favored him over her."

"That's harsh of her," Harry interrupted quickly. "Hermione would never pick a favorite."

"I tried telling her that but she's pretty convinced," Ron retorted. "And can you blame her, Harry? Hermione spent most of Rose's childhood focused on her career and when Hugo comes around, she suddenly has some time to come home to spend time with him. I can't really get mad at Rose for thinking like that."

"But at the same time, you can't pin the blame on Hermione," Harry countered. "I'm sure she has her reasons why. She always has a reason."

"I don't know. All I know is that I'm glad that she chose to spend the day with us tomorrow and that Rose isn't close to her like she is with me." Ron shrugged and took a final gulp of his butterbeer before he tossed the bottle in a waste bin behind him.

Harry was about to open his mouth when he heard footsteps coming down from the hallway behind him and then kept quiet as he reluctantly took another tentative sip of his butterbeer, listening to the several pattering feet near into the area.

"Don't say any of this," Ron hissed.

A moment later, Hermione emerged in the kitchen. Following behind her was Ginny with Hugo and Lily animatedly chatting to her about the roaring events occurring during the Quidditch season. Hugo was clutching the back of Hermione's shirt eagerly.

"Alright, alright, Hugo," Hermione laughed. "I'll get your chocolate frog. Keep that up and I'll jinx it to taste like Brussels sprouts."

Hugo immediately released his mother's shirt with a disgusted look, making Hermione laugh once again at his reaction. She playfully ruffled his untamed hair before she went to the pantry across the kitchen.

"That is so like you," Ginny smirked. "Threatening a child with vegetables. How low can you go?"

"I haven't given him braces yet so I don't think I've gotten low yet!" Hermione's voice rings out from within the pantry, her tone cheerful and free. Although, her words made Hugo grimaced.

Ginny grinned down at her nephew. "I'm sure it won't be so bad when you get them, H. Lily is about to get hers soon."

"What?" Lily cried, her eyes wide in fear. "No I won't!"

"No promises," Ginny mused.

Lily turned to her father. "Dad!"

"Don't look at me," Harry chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender and shaking his head. "No promises here."

Lily gawked at her parents in disbelief that made it impossible for Harry to keep a straight face; he knew how much she despised the idea of getting braces. She had been there when Albus had gotten his and she did not like the idea of feeling her teeth hurting or having difficulty to eat. He can hear Ron was heard trying to stifle his laughter at her face. Then Hermione returned from the pantry with two small colorful packages, the sight making Hugo's eyes lit up in excitement once he saw the elegant engraving.

"Yay!" Hugo cheered happily as he took one of the packages from Hermione's hands and began to undo the ribbon laced around it. "Hopefully I'll get Bowman Wright! I've been looking for that card for ages!"

Noticing the other package still remained in her palm, Hermione looked at her niece and saw Lily had a contemplating face pointed at the box while her hands fidget with the hem of her blouse. Her cheeks, neck, and the tip of her ears were brightened in a red color that nearly matched with her hair.

"Is something wrong, love?" Hermione asked.

Lily shook her head. "I don't want it."

"Why not?" Hermione raised a quizzical brow. "You wanted one a second ago."

"I did," Lily admitted before lowering her head meekly. "But I don't want braces."

At this, Harry, Ginny, and Ron burst out into a laughing fit together, their sounds vibrating around the room. Hermione glared up at them, her eyes accusing and judging them as she stared at them enjoying Lily's distraught.

"You lot are horrible," she stated.

"Oh come on, Hermione," Ron grinned. "It was just for fun and games."

Hermione rolled her eyes before turning to her niece, her eyes softened into a reassuring glance. "Don't listen to them, Lily. You won't be getting any braces."

Lily peered up at her aunt, a hopeful glint shining off her bright brown eyes. "Really?"

"Really." Hermione smiled and held out the package. Lily took it hesitantly and tentatively began to undo the ribbon, grumbling under her breath.

"No!" Hugo suddenly groaned. He was holding a Famous Wizard Card, his lips pouted in disappointment and he was glaring at it. "I got Gwenog Jones again! Just my bloody luck!"

Harry's eyes widen in shock at the usage of words coming from his nephew while Ginny gasped in astonishment, using one hand to cover her mouth. Ron, on the other hand, was starting at his son in disbelief and glancing at his wife once in a while in nervousness, noting that her face was scrunched up and colored red in anger. Harry clamped up his ears, knowing the highest peak of Hermione's voice was going to be heard soon.

" _Hugo Weasley!_ " Hermione cried, her voice nearing the sound of a shrill, placing her hands on her hips as she glared down at her youngest child. " _Watch your language!_ "

"What?" Hugo questioned, innocent and naïve, oblivious to the wrong he had done. "I hear dad say it all the time."

Now Hermione turned her glare to her husband, who was slightly shaking under her gaze and sheepishly grinning at her as he combed his hand through his hair.

"Wow!" Lily gasped, a wide smile presenting her purely white teeth, as she held up a Famous Wizard Card. "Look who I have!" She skipped over to her mother and handed her the card.

Ginny flipped it to the front and smiled. "Merwyn the Malicious."

"No way!" Hugo gawked. "I was looking for that one!"

"I thought you wanted Bowman Wright?" Harry mused with a smirk.

"I did," Hugo said. "But Merwyn the Malicious is wicked! He's the reason jinxes and hexes exist!"

"Young lad knows his stuff," Ginny said amusingly.

"Yes, he does," Hermione smiled proudly as she approached the group by the counter. Then she smacked Ron across the arm with her hand, causing him to yelp at the impact. "So _don't_ corrupt him, Ronald Weasley!"

"It was one time!" Ron said. "I didn't think he'd pick it up so quickly!"

Hermione just gave him another punch to the arm.

"What was that for?" Ron demanded as he rubbed the sore spot on his arm that was now aching from his wife's assault.

" _That's_ for scaring Lily," Hermione replied cheekily before she sent one fist to Harry's arms. "And _that's_ for scaring your own daughter."

"Ouch," Harry flinched. Normally, Hermione was never a violent person; she usually nagged him or Ron of their wrongs until they did something to correct them. He should have known better that, during the war, when she nearly pummeled Ron to the ground at his return that her way of disciplining them or keeping them under control had evolved physically with reason.

"Ginny started it," Ron said, pointing a finger at his youngest sibling. "Why doesn't she get hit?"

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother then grinned. "Because she knows I'll hex her if she did."

" _Ha!_ " Hermione laughed sarcastically in an unserious manner. "I'd like to see you try."

"Want to take this outside, _Granger?_ "

"Lead the way, _Weasley_."

The four adults shared a round of laughter at the two in-laws awful attempt to seem threatening to the other while the two children watched them in somewhat confusion and interest. It was common for Hermione and Ginny to have these random moments of challenging each other with their abilities of certain spells. Both men knew that their wives are best at hexes and jinxes; Hermione was excellent at creating them while Ginny was brilliant at casting them. There would have been an endless duel between them if it ever really happened.

"Oh! Did Harry mention to you of the ball that the _Daily_ _Prophet_ is having?" Ginny announced.

Harry resisted the urge to groan inwardly at the change of topic being settled on his least favorite subject. He did not mind speaking about Ginny's job because it involved her successful achievements to making the company a more honest and accurate workplace with her articles and because she works in a sport he was in love with but the fact that it was still the same news company that had twisted his image erratically from both ends, it makes it difficult for him push aside his loathing feelings for them.

Ron shook his head, staring intently at Harry. "No, he hasn't. Why would the _Daily Prophet_ have a ball for?"

"Cuffe is having it to celebrate the new record of sales – the first one to be broken for fifty years," Ginny explained proudly. "He says that my articles are what attracting the customer's attention and because it is Quidditch season too. Most people can't go to the matches because of their jobs and such so they buy to stay updated. Newsstands usually need to get refilled weekly and sometimes monthly but because of the sudden increasing demands, the stands have to be refilled daily."

"That's great, Gin!" Ron said as he pulled his sister in his arms for a congratulating embrace, lightly patting her on the back. He released her a second later then gave Harry a light tap on the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me anything about this?"

"Er, it must have…slipped," Harry stammered. "With work and all."

In reality, Harry was not exactly thrilled by the occasion that will take place soon especially when it is being hosted by people he isn't fond with. But he knew that he did not talk about the event because his mind was focused on a particular woman standing in the same area as him for the past few days that even his job could not seem to have distracted him away from his thoughts about Hermione.

"Well, get your mind out of the gutter, mate," Ron teased. "Or you'll miss the importance of life."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry mumbled.

"Why do people still read the papers?" Lily asked curiously. "Can't they use the Internet to watch the matches when they happen?"

"Because there's no Internet in the wizarding world," Hugo said. "It's full of old people so they do things traditional."

"Old people!"

Hugo shrunk under the outburst of the adult and then turned his heel, grabbed Lily by her wrist, and sprints out of the kitchen area, pulling her with him closely as he left behind of trail of his laughter. A couple of Lily's giggles were heard mixed within the sound also.

"Like father like son, indeed," Harry joked.

"Anyway," Ginny started, turning her attention back to her brother and sister-in-law. "You two should come. It will be fun."

Ron's face became sour. "Why would I want to go to a ball?"

"To support your loving and hardworking sister."

"Haha. Hardworking, yes. Loving? Not so much."

"Oh come on, Ron!" Ginny urged. "Stuff like this hardly ever happens. When was the last time you ever heard the _Daily Prophet_ do a celebration?"

"I don't know," Ron shrugged. "Because I don't care about them."

"Then what about Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"What about me?"

"Would you like to come?"

"Well," Hermione briefly glanced at Ron. "I'm sure it won't be _too bad_. And it is to celebrate for your involvement with the paper…"

"So you'll go?" Ginny's eyes shone in hope.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't mind. When is it?"

"October 2nd. Ron?"

Ron groaned. "Ginny, you know I don't do these types of things. Having to dress up like a puppet and act all formal with people I really don't know. Plus, I have to listen to them talk about things I don't really care about."

"You go to these things all the time," Ginny pointed out.

"To make more sales," Ron shot back. "I'm proud of you and I'll always support you with your job but I don't see why Hermione and I have to torture ourselves with this…"

"The Weird Sisters will be there," Harry mumbled, his voice surprising himself.

He had been listening to the conversation and he was pleased to hear his wife invite his two best friends. She must have known that he did not want to be alone in a room full of people he was not well with and decided to spare him for deciding to come. He was upset to hear Ron decline Ginny's invitation but then his spirits lifted at Hermione's acceptance. He wanted her to come mostly than Ron because, unlike him, she is able to keep conversations flowing with anybody and Harry knew that despite it being with the same people who had caused her to have the reputation of a scarlet woman and were the main cause why she had gotten hate mail in their fourth year, she is mature enough to remain civil with them.

So when he heard Ron was being stubborn to come to the event, he had to mention his best friend's favorite band. It was a liking that Ron had told him during their fourth year; he was ecstatic to see them perform at the Yule Ball but he was just being foul because of the fact that Hermione had attended the night with Viktor Krum. Harry had kept that piece of information to himself for years without any unfathomable reason but for now he was glad he remembered it. Because as he watches Ron's face, he could see he was conflicted between his desire to see and meet his favored musical group against the idea of being caught in possible future conversations with the members of the Daily Prophet.

It took Ron a moment longer to answer and it made Harry become anxious until he saw Hermione lean into Ron's hear, her lips grazing along the shell as she quietly whispered. Then Ron groaned and hung his head as Hermione pulled back with a satisfied smile. Ron glared at her for a second before turning to Ginny with a resigned grin.

"Fine," he murmured. "We'll go – _I'll go_."

"Thank Merlin!" Ginny sighed in relief.

A light creak was heard from the entrance to the hallway and all four heads turned to see Carol Granger walking into the kitchen with a slight grin, her hands clasped together. Her eyes looked withered, aging.

"Darling, I'll be leaving now," she told her only daughter.

Hermione approached her mother. "Are you sure, mum? It's hardly ten."

"I'm sure," Carol reassured her. She gazed over at the other from over Hermione's shoulder. "Thank you all for a lovely evening. It was wonderful."

The three murmured encouragingly at her, waving off her compliment as another ordinary passing, and wishing her a well sleep for the night.

"I'll walk you out," Hermione volunteered, taking her mother's hand and began to lead her out of the kitchen before Carol could protest. She sends a quick wave to the other before disappearing from the edge of the doorway.

"We should get going too," Ginny said. "It's getting late and the kids have school tomorrow."

Harry's mood went downward. He was not ready to leave yet. He hardly ever comes back to this house and he wanted to enjoy every waking second he has standing within it. With every millisecond he has with Ron and…Hermione. But he understood that his daughter's education is a first priority over all.

"I'll go get Lily," Ginny said. "You'll go and get our coats, love?"

Harry nodded silently as Ginny made her way out of the kitchen. He exhaled as he also headed out of the kitchen with Ron following his trail and walked over to the door to the coat closet in the narrow hallway.

"It's a shame," Ron stated, lazily leaning against the frame of the door as he watched Harry pick off his and the girl's coats from the rack, crossing his arms over his chest. "Been a long time since we got to hang out like this. I thought you'd be here longer."

"I thought so too," Harry sighed as he stepped out of the coat closet and closed the door behind him. "But I guess we can't do everything we used to do. Kids, work…"

Ron nodded. "Hey, remember that one time? The one when we all stayed over at my old flat?"

"Which one? The one before or the one you lived with Hermione?"

"The one before," Ron grinned. "I remember something new always happens. Like that one time the bobbies came because someone called on us. We were making too much noise."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled. "I remembered. We were completely bladdered. Good thing the Firewhiskey was hidden when they searched the place."

Ron laughed. "True!" Then he sighed. "Wow, we sound old talking like this."

"We _are_ old."

"Don't remind me, mate."

Harry smirked before his eyes spotted several ginger colored blobs mixed with a dark dot appearing at the doorway from the corner of his eye. He looked to see Molly embracing Ginny tightly, whispering in her ear while her daughter nodded vigorously and George was holding Lily on his shoulder whilst speaking to Angelina, who was holding Hugo. Both kids were munching on the remains of their chocolate frogs, the corners of their mouth smudged with the brown goodness.

Molly lets go of Ginny and makes her way over to Harry, who already opened his arms, already predicting her to flung herself on him for bid him goodbye in the motherly way she always does like she is now.

"Have a nice night, dear," she said as she rubbed Harry's back. "Be careful with that job of yours. I did not like it when I heard what happened with that escort of yours to Scotland."

"I will. Tell Arthur I said 'hello'."

Molly nodded before releasing Harry. Then George walked up and handed Lily to Harry before he gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

"You should come over to the shop one day," he said. "We got a bunch of new products. I'd like you to test them out to see if they're legal enough to be sold. Last thing I need to is to be charged for manslaughter and what better man to check them out than the Head Auror himself."

"Should I be worried?" Harry questioned.

"No," George chuckled. "I'm sure they're completely harmless but I'd like for you to check."

"I'll see if I can come around."

"Thanks." George held out his hand and Harry took it firmly, shaking it lightly.

"Do you and Auntie have to go?" Hugo asked with a light whine, his chocolate-covered lips pouted and his eyes downcast from their normal shining glint.

"Don't worry about it, buddy," Ron said with a reassuring smile as he ruffled his son's hair. "I'm sure they'll come around again."

"We'll try," Harry added. He can see that Hugo did not look convince and he did not blame him. Harry figured Hugo must be feeling the same as him. Rare days like this come with no signs on when the next time will happen.

"Ready to go, darling?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded. _No but unfortunately we have to go_.

Ginny looped her arm through his and they made their way over to the door with Ron walking beside them while the other descended down to the common room full of music. Harry had no doubt that George would continue to dance along with Hugo and attempt to persuade Angelina to join him. Ron went ahead of them to hold the door open for them and stepped out after them into the rising evening, the sky turning into a pale blue and dark purple.

However, Harry's eyes were trained on a sight away from the extravagance above; from his spot, he could see two silhouettes standing next to a 1970 Morris 1800 Mark ll and hushed tones emerging from within the two. He squinted his eyes through the lenses of his eyes to clear his vision and once the details were more profound, he can see the two figures were Hermione and her mother speaking among themselves. He could not tell what they were talking about but he can see that it was the opposite of cheerful by how deep their frowns were and piercing their matching brown eyes were intently staring at the other.

"The park doesn't open up until seven in the States," said Ron, his voice breaking Harry from his gaze on the two females. "So come here around noon and we'll apparate from there?"

"Do you know how Disney World looks?" Harry wondered. From the edge of his eye he can see Ginny making her way over to Hermione and Carol at the car.

"Hermione's mum looked up some picture for me," Ron shrugged. "I really don't understand what's so magical about that place. It's all rides and people in costumes."

Harry just shrugged.

"Anyway, let me know if Cuffe lets Ginny come," Ron said.

"I will." Harry nodded.

"Great," Ron said. "Good night, mate."

"G'night, Ron."

Harry turned away from his best friend to walk over to where his wife is waiting for him. He can see Carol climbing into her car and Hermione pushing the door closed behind her as the engines roared to life. Hermione, Ginny, and Lily waved at Carol through her tinted window before the car eased its way out into the empty road and the gravel crunched beneath the tires as it zoomed down through the night, the reflections of the streetlights seen glinting off the windows as it faded away.

"Thanks for supper, Hermione," Ginny said as she gave her sister-in-law a quick hug. "It was lovely."

"Anytime," Hermione smiled but somehow Harry found it to be false. The way how her corners seem to be force her cheeks upward and the way how her purse were somewhat pursed left him wondering what could it be that she was talking to her mother about that has her off. She was clearly not fooling him of her attempt to seem normal but to Ginny she looked ordinary.

"Will I have more of your mashed potatoes, Auntie?" Lily asked.

"Only if you come around often, Lily Bear," Hermione grinned. She gave her niece a few gentle pokes on her most sensitive areas by the ribs that caused to the young Potter child to giggle and inch away from her hands.

Harry leaned forward to give Hermione a one-arm hug since he was still holding his daughter and gently rubbed her back, realizing that it was tense when he felt her muscles suddenly relax under his touch. He can confirm by this that she was having an inner struggle with what she was speaking with her mother. He can hear her breathing become shaky, the beat of her heart thumping unsteadily against his side, and her hands trembled on the arch of his back.

"Sweet dreams, 'Mione," he murmured into her ear, hoping that she can hear the concern and sincerity in his voice, a hidden message of letting her know that no hesitation is required when she wants to talk to him. He wanted her to know that he is there during her dark times because she was there for him in his hell.

"Good night," she whispered. She lets go of him, gives him a kind smile, before she turned to walk toward the front entrance of her home where Harry can see Ron was still standing, probably waiting for her and that made him feel dejected. He can see Ron had immediately taken a hold on her by her waist while planted a loving kiss on the crown of her head before she smiled at him and returned one to his lips.

Harry looked away. His hand twitch when he felt another slide into his palm and he knew that they are going to dissipate. He glanced back at his best friends to see that they were entering the home, their arms still wrapped around each other and Hermione was pushing the door closed when he can feel his body becoming tight within air as Ginny disapparated them.

And as his body disappeared, his eyes never left the door as it eased closed because, even for a second, he could have sworn that he saw Hermione glance back and her eyes were locked with his before the door broke the connection.

He could not be mistaken that those were disappointment and sorrow looking back at him.

* * *

It had been an hour already since they got back home from the Weasley residence. Ginny was already in her nightgown and tucked under the covers reading the new issue of the Daily Prophet when Harry entered the room, having come back from luring Lily to sleep. He slipped off his shirt and tossed it in the hamper next to the door before he climbed on the bed next to her, taking off his glasses and placing it on the nightstand next to him. He laid on his side, curling his arm beneath his head as a pillow, and then closed his eyes.

"I just got a letter back from Cuffe," Ginny said, folding the newspaper into a square and dropping it on her nightstand.

Harry tried to not seem so eager. "What did he say?"

"I can't go."

Harry shot up, a look of disbelief embedded on his face. "What? Why?"

"It's like I told you earlier, honey," Ginny sighed. "Cuffe is not a horrible man but he is not too generous. It was unlikely of him to give me a day off when he is already spending his money on the celebration and during a Quidditch season too! So I'm not at all surprised of him rejecting it."

"Yeah," Harry resigned, laying his head on his arm again, and watch mournfully at his wife as she settled herself within the cover, her back facing him. He slid one arm around her midsection as she reached an arm out to flick the lamplight off, surrounding them in the faint darkness of their room, the light of the moon outside the only thing lighting up their bodies.

"Maybe next time," Ginny said. "How old is Hermione turning this year?"

"Thirty-eight."

"Always one year ahead of us."

"That's Hermione. Always one step ahead of us."

"Yeah, it seems so," Ginny yawned tiredly as she snuggled into the soft cushion of her pillow, using one hand to entwined with her husband's on her stomach. "I'll make sure to have a clear day for her thirty-ninth birthday," she whispered, her voice low.

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that," Harry said. He felt her nod her head but she did not speak any further. He assumed that had already fallen asleep.

The room seemed darker now, and a shiver would crawl up on his spine as he pulled the comforter closer to their shoulder, being careful to not wake Ginny with his movements. He hadn't noticed how exhausted he was all this time until he blinked his eyes closed and he was asleep, utterly unconscious, very content, in a matter of seconds.

* * *

It was the first night in many years since his mind would wander back to his younger years in Hogwarts. The details of his memory were a bit sketchy but the colors were vivid, the sounds were clear, yet he could not pinpoint what moment of his life he was remembering. He always tried to get away from his past to avoid feeling the remorse and despair that came from the many faces he had lost during the war whether the moments were of good or bad. He allowed himself to think of the times following the year of 1998, the most recent ones of the aftermath because he did not feel comfortable knowing he, along with Voldemort, was the reason why those lives were in the crossfire.

But his curiosity had grown over his willpower. He focused on trying to make the vision clearer as the voices spoke on, the volume becoming lower at every second passing until it ceased completely. The detail have gotten sharper; walls of scarlet tapestries with designs of witches, wizards, and several animals, a large fireplace dominating one room where a pleasant heat would spread throughout, inviting armchairs placed near said spot, and tables seen at the corners full of books and quills. There was a bulletin board covered with ads, posters, and notices near the entryway. The color of the room is what helped Harry realized he was inside the Gryffindor common room.

He saw himself seated on one of the armchair nearby the fire, wearing his light blue night attire, with his fingers clasped together and his elbows rested on his knees. He did not look as if he was eleven by his rigid posture or the weary stare of his eyes watching the flickering flames of the fireplace. He looked like his seventeen year old self trapped within the body of his younger self, mentally tortured and emotionally damaged. He remembered looking like that when he was suffering from PTS (Post Traumatic Stress) and was using all of his might to not spiral out of control. The second time of his life was after the war and the first time was the night when he had encountered his first dark wizard as an inexperienced student.

Harry can see the torment in his eyes with his they would shift every five seconds from the fire to the walls to his hands and then back to the fire. Sometimes he would grunt as if he was hurt, as if he was having an internal pain. He was skittish, almost anxious. His younger self must be reliving his first battle.

"Harry?" a gentle voice came from behind, the tone timid yet cautious. Gentle pats were heard moving downwards and then the floor groaned beneath the footsteps heard coming closer. A brown blur flowed past Harry as it walked around the chair to kneel in front of his younger self. The change of angle helped Harry see the face of the unexpected visitor.

It was a twelve-year old Hermione Granger. She was exactly as how Harry remembered her to be at that age; buck teeth, somewhat baggy clothes, and her always bushy hair was tied back in her famous palettes. Her eyes became amber beneath the glow of the fire and Harry can see the worrisome she held for his younger self.

Younger Harry, in fact, looked surprised to see Hermione in front of him, awake and alarmed.

"What are you doing up?" he asked her, his words a bit slackened and wavered.

"I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd come down here for a bit of light reading," she said honestly, holding up a thick volume in her hand. Harry can see the title on the hard cover read _The Pillar of the Earth_. He did not know what it was about but it sounded like a concept that was something only Hermione would be interested in.

Younger Harry just nodded silently and returned to staring at the fire. Hermione did not seem interested in her book anymore as she was putting the thick volume on the table and lightly perched herself on the armrest beside Harry, her hands folded on her lap.

"Why are you awake?" she asked.

Younger Harry shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

"Oh," Hermione nodded. She did not speak further but from Older Harry's perspective, he can see that she was fiddling with the hem of her shirt and nervously nibbling on her lower lip – a habit that his younger self would learn later to be her way of showing she was deep in thought. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

Younger Harry sighed, lowering his head. "I just…couldn't."

"Were you thinking about _that_ night?"

"Is it obvious?"

"Only for those who know you."

Younger Harry raised a brow at Hermione. "You think you know me well?"

"Not entirely but I have learned a couple of things about you this term," she answered earnestly.

"Like what?" he challenged.

"Hmm." Hermione paused for a moment and her famous look came onto her face – her eyebrows furrowed, her lips gnawed on, and her eyes looking away from a distance. "Well…whenever you run your hands through you hair, you're either nervous, frustrated, or a bit nervous depending on the occasion. Whenever you do something completely reckless, that's when you're blocked out from your emotions. When you have this faraway look in your eyes, you're deep in thought. You tend to grit your teeth when you're angry and sometimes your nostrils flare but that depends how high your anger is. When you're embarrassed your face is flushed. When you're focused on something your eyes would squint. And like any other person, when you're happy, relieved, or just relaxed, you smile. Need I go on?"

Younger Harry was staring up at her in astonishment while Older Harry was gazing at her fondly. He did not think about it before but now as he remembered it, he was very impressed to know that Hermione was able to memorize details about himself in nine months. He knew there that she truly wanted to be his friend, mostly his best friend, if she was willing to take mental notes on trivial details of him.

"You're very observant," said Younger Harry with a slight grin.

Hermione smiled for a moment before she became serious. "You know you never really told me what you saw in the Mirror of Erised."

Younger Harry sighed with a frown and shook his head. "It's nothing."

However, Hermione was having neither of that. She laid one hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb in the dip, and then leaned forward slightly to make sure her face is seen within the peripheral vision.

"Harry, after everything we've been through this term, you can talk to me," she told him kindly, reassuringly, giving him a gentle squeeze on his shoulder.

"I know," Harry sighed. "It's just…what I saw in the Mirror…I saw it twice. And every time I see it…I'm left disappointed because…because it isn't real. I wish it was."

Older Harry could see that Hermione sensed the negativity that Younger Harry is feeling by how her eyes softened and her hand slipped from his shoulder while she climbed off the armrest. He watched as she seized Younger Harry's hand in hers, pulled him off the armchair, guided him to the front of the fireplace, and then pulled him down with her as she lowered to the carpet. They sat beside the other, their legs crossed and arms brushing slightly.

Older Harry stood a few feet behind them, seeing Hermione glancing at him once in a while and Younger Harry staring ahead like he did before. He can feel Hermione anxious for him to continue; even then she wanted to know about the bad things about him just to make him feel right. A little girl with strong curiosity that she could use to find the riches of the world but rather use it on a young boy like him just to comfort him.

 _The testament of persistence,_ Older Harry thought.

"I saw my parents," admitted Younger Harry after a long lengthy moment passed, his voice almost inaudible and his tone disbelief. He was in shock that night to see a life-sized version of his late parents that night.

"What did they look like?" Hermione asked.

"My dad looks like me," Harry said. "Or I look like him. I felt like I was staring at myself from the future. Especially with the way he smiled at me – it was my smile. I can also see where I get my untamed hair from." He let out a quick chuckle.

Hermione smiled at the sound, relieved.

"My mum was beautiful," Harry continued slowly, strongly pronouncing the word to emphasize the alluring appearance of the woman who had given him birth. "I had no doubt she was popular with the blokes in my age. And…I have her eyes." His voice became softer. "And her nose…"

Noticing the quick change in him, Hermione scooted closer to Harry and, with such hesitance at first, slides an arm around his back, lightly rubbing behind his shoulder, as she rested her head on his other shoulder. He had stiffened under her actions, a natural reaction he had gotten from receiving foreign affection of a female, but then he let out a long sigh as he tentatively pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

Older Harry stepped around the two and sat on the armchair opposite to them; he can see Hermione smiling at the fact he had not pulled away from her. He felt himself smiling to see her reaction.

"It sounds fascinating," she whispered.

"It would be if they were alive," Younger Harry murmured bitterly, lifting his head from hers. "The Mirror of Esired is a joke. An illusion to trick people into thinking something is real when it's not. Yeah, it showed me where the Stone was but….the point is…"

"You wished your parents were there when you saw them," Hermione finished.

Harry just grumbled, "Yes." Then he slipped himself out of Hermione's grasp and brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly, and lowered his head in his arms. His body began to shake violently and several sniffles surfaced.

"Harry…" Hermione quickly maneuvered to be sitting on her knees in front of Harry and took his head in her hands to lift his face from his arms, revealing a look of anguish covered in streaks of tears. "Oh, Harry…"

Harry took off his round glasses and used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away the remaining tears threatening to shed from his emerald eyes then cleaned his cheeks from the dried ones.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "Look, I know that no matter what I say or do it won't change the fact that they're…gone. But I can tell you this; you're not alone. You have many people here who love you and care for you so much. You have Hagrid, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Ron, and me. We all love you unconditionally no matter what we go through. And we're always going to be there for you through it all. And nothing – absolutely nothing – is going to take us away from you. I can promise you that."

Younger Harry stared at Hermione with admiration and respect while Older Harry felt a pang of adoration towards the bright witch. He should feel odd for having such a sensation for someone at a young age but he reminded himself that this was only a memory of his and the young witch is his best friend who is now a woman.

"Thank you," said Younger Harry. "You know you really are a brilliant witch."

Hermione lets out a nervous chuckle, slipping her hands away from his face and onto her lap as she blushed furiously. "Well, I don't see what me being a 'brilliant witch' has anything to do with now."

"No, I meant before," Harry rephrased. "If it weren't for you, I don't think I would even know a thing about the Stone."

Hermione just smiled once more and her cheeks became darker red. She sat back on her heels as she tilted her head, staring at Harry curiously.

"You know," she said. "I've always wondered…what was it like where you live? I've heard stories but I never believed them."

Harry clicked his tongue. "I'm sure you'd prefer the rumors than the real thing. It's a bit of a shock really."

"I'm sure I can handle it."

Harry inhaled deeply before he began his story of the past eleven years of his life with the Dursleys. He told her everything: how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia paid no attention to him and when they did they would be negative, all his clothes were hand-me-downs from Dudley which made them far too large for Harry's small frame, how they would force him to do household chores. He even told her about how his cousin, Dudley, started to bully him due to the encouragement of his parent and how he, along with his friends, made sure that Harry did not make one friend by using fear against them. He even explained to Hermione about a unique game called Hunting Harry that involved him being chased by Dudley and his gang. When he was done, Hermione was appalled.

"That's awful!" she gasped. "How could they – how can someone be so low – so vial!"

Harry shrugged, his shoulder brushing against hers. Hermione had moved to sit next to Harry sometime during his telling of his life. Older Harry could see Hermione was sputtering over her words, almost as if she could not find the correct word to describe her dislike towards his former guardians and he could not blame her over her stumble of words, not the least bit surprised to see her struggling over her choice of vocabulary. If Harry had known better, he would think that Hermione would have been close to cursing for the first time and he would have laughed at the idea back then, but now, he would see that as a normal reaction from her whenever her mind would go haywire.

"You get used to it," murmured Younger Harry with a shrug. "At least I got something to look forward to after every break. I get to come back here now and I get to stay away from them so it's not entirely bad now. All my birthday wishes came true."

"But still…" Hermione shook her head. "No one should go through that."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "It's done."

A pause of silence fell upon them. Hermione would glance over at Harry, down at her hands, and then back at the fire while Harry just remained still. A wave of anxiety seem to be flowing out of Hermione from Older Harry's perspective, seeming like she has a hidden conflict to herself to think over, analyzing in her wiring mind. He can see the gears turning and whistles blowing inside her head as she continued to peek at Younger Harry. Then when her eyes became bright, he can imagine a light bulb blinking over her head.

"So…if they taught you that way and you had not friends," she mumbled, her voice hardly recognizable. "Does that mean…you never met a girl to fancy? Or to snog?"

Older Harry chuckled at his younger self's reaction; he had sputtered and blushed deeply as he twiddled his thumbs.

"No."

"Oh."

"Why would you ask that?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just curious, I suppose. I mean, I guess it's unfair to you to lack in any social interactions all because your family aren't fond on who you are and you couldn't experience such things while your cousin likely did."

"Ew." Harry gagged. "I can't imagine that. Dudley snogging someone. I'd feel bad the bird who'd go through that with him." He shuddered. "Thanks for the image, Hermione."

"Sorry," she giggled, shaking her head. "But seriously, though. I think you deserve to experience at least a kiss. Even if it is a peck."

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked.

"Well," Hermione bit her lip before continuing, "if you'd let me…I'd like to give you your first kiss."

Harry blinked. "W-what?"

"I-I have my reasons!" Hermione stuttered, her face incredibly scarlet red. "You went through so much that I think you deserve something good from it. Plus, you did save me from the troll and I never got to thank you properly. And then there's you going alone to face Quirrell and You-Know-Who so I thought maybe…" she trailed off.

"O-oh."

"Yeah."

They turned away from each other, their faces matching the blood color now. Older Harry had to laugh. It was always humorous to see children act so awkward and shy around each other.

"Even if I agreed," Younger Harry started. "I'd probably be no good at it."

"Me neither," Hermione said sheepishly. "It'll be my first kiss too."

Harry knitted his brows together but he did not face her. "Then wouldn't you want it with someone you fancy?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted. "But I would like to share it with someone I trust because I know they would make it memorable for me and I trust you, Harry. A lot."

"Oh," Harry mumbled. "Thanks."

"No problem," Hermione said. Then peered at him from the corner of her eye. "So would you like to? We could forget about it afterwards."

"Only if you want to." Harry paused. "And if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Hermione confirmed, her tone steady and certain.

The sound made Harry swallow hard. "O-okay."

Older Harry leaned back into the armchair as the two young children slowly, hesitantly, turned to the other, their eyes scanning over their colored faces to notice they are sharing the same nervousness, and then they pressed against one hand on the carpet, leaning forward a bit. Their anxious eyes never broke their lock on each other.

Hermione inhaled sharply. "Ready?"

"No."

"It's okay. Neither am I."

Harry stared at her incredulously. "So why are we doing this?"

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said. "We both agree to forget about it afterwards, right?"

"Y-yes, I suppose."

"Okay. Now close your eyes."

Older Harry sees Younger Harry complied to her command and sat there waiting patiently yet nervously. He had dug his nails into the carpet to keep himself calm in the moment even though he was beyond it, and Older Harry remembered the sensations he felt when Hermione had leaned in; the heat of his body coming close enough for it to radiate onto him, the warmth hotter than the fire for him, puffs of her fresh breath mingling with his and blowing past his rose red cheeks, the hair on his neck standing when her presence became nearer, the goose bumps on his skin risen, and then the air within him had disappeared when her lips were crushed against his, uncoordinatedly and unexperienced.

Older Harry remembered all these emotions, these affects he had, when he had his first kiss with Hermione and he can see his younger self going through the rush as Hermione gently kissed him on the lips. Neither of them pushed forward. They just sat there with their lips pressed together, unmoving, unsure on what they should do next.

Harry wondered what would have happened if Hermione had been in Cho Change's position in their fifth year. She certainly would not be crying, he was sure of that. They would probably enjoy it, pleased that they had gotten over it with someone they gave their life to for protection and faith, and then probably share a laugh at how awkward it was but never regret it.

Then when Younger Hermione pulled back from Younger Harry, she had let out a small gasp as she gently placed her fingers on her lips as if they had been burned while Harry stayed the same, his lips puckered a bit and his eyes never opening. Older Harry remembered he had taken a moment to mesmerize the feelings of having his first kiss because he wanted to keep it to memory at how fantastic it was to understand why Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would share one every moment he went off to work and also because he had found Hermione's lips to be quite chapped yet the pressure from them on his were incredibly smooth and soft.

"Well…," Hermione paused to clear her throat as she brushed back a strand of her hair that had fallen over her face. "That was…"

Harry had opened his eyes by now, his gaze hazy in a daze and glossy. "That was brilliant."

"That it was."

"I can see why people enjoy it so much," Harry grinned teasingly.

A bubbly giggle escaped from Hermione, shaking her head with a shy smile, glancing down at her toes as she wiggled them in the carpet.

"Thank you for that," Harry said.

"You're welcome."

As Older Harry watch them began to speak about their plans for the future – or Hermione's plans because Harry already knew he would be locked up in the cupboard and catering to the Dursley's every whim – he began to question why would Hermione give up her first kiss for him when she could have shared it with someone she loved deeply like she does with Ron? She might have given it to Viktor Krum because she had fancied him despite his odd ways if it hadn't been for this particular day. Those two men, Ron and Viktor, could have been her first kiss but she wasted it on him for trivial reasons. Why?

* * *

The following morning, Ginny had already left before he had woken up and she had left behind freshly cooked breakfast on the table for when he had prepared himself. She had left him a note stating that she had called Lily's school with the excuse that she was ill from a high fever and she had sent an owl to Grumps to let him know he would be in full command for the day due to Harry being absence on family business. It was the main reason why Harry had forced himself to wake up early but Ginny had done the errand for him and he was grateful for that. He decided to write his own letter to Grumps to tell him to reschedule his meeting with Proudfoot at St. Mungo's to pass up the time when Lily had skipped down the stairs, dressed and widely awake.

Like her father, she had gotten used to her routine of waking up before dawn. Harry decided to take her to her favorite shop in Diagon Alley: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He knew that Ron had excused Hugo from his lessons like Lily and would have him entertained at the many marvelous supplies inside the shop until it was time to leave. He can guarantee that Lily would be highly distracted with her favorite cousin.

On the way there, he had to carefully sidestep shoppers and street vendors as Lily yanked him by the arm toward the familiar purple building with red window sills spotted at the end of the street. The mechanical ginger figure of the famous Weasley twins is hard to miss as it greeted its customers with its robotic top hat and large grin. When they were close enough to the window's display, Lily had let go of Harry's hand to swerve through the crowd and sprinted through the main entrance, nearly barreling into the front doors. He can already see her pouncing on George and Ron.

He was about to proceed forward when he spotted a tremendous glint not too far from him. He turned to the side to see a jewelry vendor with massive curly dark hair and a long braided goatee shouting out the variety of products he has on display and their prices to any passengers walking past him. So far he had not gotten the attention of a crowd but the sight of a piece hanging from a foam neck is what captured Harry's eye.

It was a silver chain with a gorgeous pendant in the shape of an otter that has two green diamond shards encrusted as its eyes. The perimeter had dark blue gems that looked like sapphires. Even from where Harry was standing, he could see the diamonds glitter in the sunlight beaming down. It was a bit cliché for Harry to buy an object that obviously represented Hermione in the shape of her Patronus but it was plainly magnificent that he was willing to overlook the overused. Understated and simple. He was sure Hermione would not mind it if it fits her well.

Walking over to the energetic vendor, Harry cleared his throat loudly to gain his attention. "How much is it for the necklace?" he asked, pointing the particular item.

The vendor's eyes widen in shock. "Wait…you…y-you are…!"

"Yes," Harry said uncomfortably, shifting his feet across the ground as he stuffed his hands in his pocket. He nodded towards the necklace. "How much is it?"

"Oh, um," the vendor stammered. "That is eight Sickles and a Galleon, sir."

"I would like to buy that, please." Harry pulled out his wallet from within his jeans pocket and began to gather the amount.

"Would you like that wrapped?" the vendor asked kindly. "Only a Knut."

"Yes, please."

As the vendor started to take the necklace from display and prepare it for wrapping, Harry placed the money on the cart before he turned back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He can see through the window display that Ron was showing Lily and Hugo one of the amazing products, the looks of awe on the children's face indicating how outstanding it was while George was seen behind the counter purchasing an item to one of the customers. There was also a mistakenly blur of curly brown seen standing behind George, leaning against the shelves and reading a catalogue of the shop's supplies.

"Here you are, Mr. Potter," the vendor said as he held out a small rectangular box covered in a pale pink wrapping and held together with a light blue ribbon. "Must be a special lady, your wife. I found this when I was traveling in the Mediterranean. Made out of pure silver and the diamonds are polished. You know how women are with their jewelry. The realer the better."

"Er, thanks," Harry murmured as he took the box. "Have a good one."

"You too, Mr. Potter."

Harry turned away from the ecstatic vendor and whipped out his wand to cast the Shrinking Charm on the box, making it seem like a small pebble in his palm, before he stuffed it inside his pocket. He returned his wand back inside his jeans as he made his way to the comedic building and walked inside. Within the place, he was ambushed with the sound of laughter and yells of excitement as customers of all ages browsed through shelf after shelf. The majority were young wizards and witches, some possibly close to the age to be attending Hogwarts while other still seem like they're in primary school.

He went over to the same spot where he saw Ron with the children from outside and saw he was still presenting another product to them. He was holding a small teacup that seemed ordinary but Harry knew otherwise.

"What does that one do?" Lily asked eagerly, basically hopping on her step.

"This is a Nose-Biting Teacup," Ron explained with a grin as he puts the object back inside its box and then places it back on the shelf behind him. "It's jinxed to bite the nose of anyone who tries to drink out of it. Your father and I bought one when Zonko's was open. We used it on Malfoy and his cronies. They were scared to drink out of anything since then."

"What about this one?" Hugo asked as he reached for one of the colorful circular boxes in the middle section of the shelf. "Screaming Yo-Yo?"

"That's my favorite," Ron said. "Unfortunately, your Uncle Fred and George wouldn't lessen the price for me even if I am their brother. In fact, they raised it because I am their brother! Ten Galleons! A bit rotten of them to do to their own blood if you ask me."

"I think it was smart of them," Harry added, smirking smugly. "Who knows how mad you would have driven Filch with that."

"Only with good reason."

"Daddy!" Lily took the box from Hugo's hands and raced towards her father. "Can I have this?"

Harry raised an amused brow. "Why would you want that?"

"For when Albus and James come back for Christmas," Lily said.

Harry reached for his wallet again. "A bit early to be thinking about Christmas shopping, don't you think?" he commented as he took out five Galleons and dropped them in Lily's awaiting hand.

"It's not for them," Lily said. "They wanted one for a long time and I'm going to show them I got one before they could!"

Then she took Hugo by the wrist and dragged him with her as she scattered over to the counter to purchase the item from George, leaving behind a surprised Harry at the fact he was easily persuaded to given up the money. Ron gave Harry a bemused smirk as he crossed his arm and tilted his head to one side.

"Clever one," he said.

Shoving his wallet back in his pocket, Harry glared at him. "Shut up."

Ron laughed as he wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and guided him through the crazed waves of consumers, making sure they don't bump into those who ran past them to reach a product first or to not tumble over any of the presenting displays seen active on the floor.

"If I hadn't known better, I'd say this place has gotten busier," Harry said.

"Well, we just got merged together with two companies," Ron spoke. "Wako's Warehouse Incorporation and Laughing Taffy's Company. Finest ones there is and with them we're able to sell three times the products and each company gets to have thirty-percent per month. I say it's a pretty decent deal."

Harry remembered reading it in the _Daily Prophet_ about the treaty among the two companies with the shop. Wako's Warehouse is an incorporation, where harmless explosives and sparking toys, founded in early 2000's by Jonathon Wrinkler, a wizard who has studied business and account in the Muggle world before he returned to the wizarding world. He was invested by a pure-blood family, the Latters, who have a desire for comedy. They were successful until in mid-2003, a new company named Laughing Taffy's had opened. It was famous for its creative pranking tools and heart-pounding sounds. It was founded by a local wizard, Beck Taffy, who was encouraged by his wife and was invested by his great-grandfather.

They rivaled against the other for years and apparently they were willing to work together through Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The contract was signed several days ago and was announced in the newspaper the day after. Since then, the rate of demands had increased incredibly high and sales were skyrocketing for the two brothers. Harry figured that it why Ron decided to do the trip to Disney; spending the day with his wife while celebrating the success of the shop.

"You know I'm still not used to you using math," Harry mused. "You were quite rubbish at it."

Ron slipped his arm away from Harry's shoulders to run his fingers through his hair, chuckling, "Well, as soon as I started working here, I had to get better at it if I wanted make money. It's true when they say you'll always be using math because everything I do in here requires it. Sometimes it leaves me knackered. I don't know how sometime could even love it."

"Me neither."

They had reached the counter the same time as George handed Lily a plastic bag containing the Screaming Yo-Yo's and Harry could see Hermione looking through a catalogue of the shop, seeming ironically interested.

"Harry!" George grinned. "I wasn't expecting you here until later."

"I had nothing else to do," Harry replied. "Figured I'd take Lily here until it's time to go."

"Bad timing," George said. "A kid went ahead and tested the new products I had in mind for you for a Sickle. I think it's safe to say they're harmless enough to be sold."

"If you leave out the part when the lad was traumatized and ran out screaming for his mum then yes," Hermione added with a disapproving sigh, her eyes never leaving the catalogue as she flipped the page. "Poor child will be having nightmares tonight, no doubt."

"Only a slight defect," George said. "Nothing that can't be fixed."

"Better hope I don't get a report on it," Harry retorted heartily. He stepped around the counter to reach Hermione, who flipped the catalogue closed when she noticed his approach, and held out his arms warmly. "Happy birthday," he added.

Hermione tossed the catalogue on the shelf before she accepted his hug, wrapped her arms around his back and laid her chin on his shoulder as she smiled gratefully. Harry resisted the unexpected urge to bury his face in her neck to inhale the appealing scent of peaches and vanilla. It was distracting and attractive to his smelling senses.

"Thank you, Harry," she said as she pulled away from his embrace and placed a hand on his arm. "Is Ginny coming."

Harry frowned. "She couldn't come. Cuffe is a strict bloke but she saw it coming with the celebration and all."

"That's a shame," Hermione said. "It would have been nice to have all of us together."

"Look at the bright side – we'll be able to hang out like we used to. We just have kids this time."

Hermione glanced over at her son and niece, seeing them taking turns on the Screaming Yo-Yo while Ron stood by watching them. She smiled. "Yes."

Harry noticed her gaze on Ron and his stomached turned over at the sight. He should be used to witnessing these loving moments between his best friends whenever they are with him; throughout the first years they had gotten together, they had the tendency to watch the other from afar with purity and amore. Harry always felt proud of them to have finally gotten through each other when it came to their feelings, especially when he got to see it whether intentionally or not, but now, with this unexplainable and new emotions he has been feeling towards Hermione, he felt down and guilty. His walk down to memory lane on the previous night does not reduce the feeling but rather feeds the hunger.

However, Harry took this moment of distraction to observe her. She was dressed casually; a simple black tank top, a pair of short denim jeans that reached the top of her knees, and a set of flats. She had a rubber band on her wrist and her hair was loose, freeing its untamed curls. He was drawn in by the display of exposed skin from her shoulders to her neck to her collarbone. He could see the arch of her throat was an excellent spot for his lips to blend into, a privilege he envied Ron to be able to have whenever he pleased. He wondered how many nips and kisses were marked on that wonderful skin of hers that did not seem bruised from her many secret moments with her husband and long-term lover.

 _Husband_. _Long-term lover._

Harry broke his stare away in shame. He could not believe he had caught himself lusting over Hermione so openly in a public place where there is George, who happens to be the brother of the man who Hermione is married to, who also happens to be his brother by law. He should not even have thoughts so inappropriate and rash towards a committed woman, one who Ron had been pining after for years now and who he had encouraged Ron to fight for once he knew about the ginger's feelings towards their studious friend.

He felt disgusted in himself. But he finds Hermione is to blame for his confusion. How dare she stand there looking so alluring? If she knew what she was doing to him would she stop? How can she make a set of casual clothes look so endearing? Had she been able to do that before? She most likely did but he had not noticed it until now.

"Love, we should get going," Hermione's voice calling out to Ron had broken Harry out of his reverie. "The park already opened two hours ago."

"Alright," Ron said.

Harry cleared his swollen throat. "Lily, leave the yo-yo here with Uncle George," he told his daughter. "We'll come back to pick it up later."

Lily reluctantly complied. Harry walked around the counter with Hermione and held out his hand for Lily, who took his somewhat grumpily, and Harry sent her a stern look. He knew she can hear him demanding her to behave through his eyes because she pouted. He looked over to his best friend to see both of them tightly gripping onto Hugo's hands and Hermione had one hand stretched out to him; he tried to not seem eager when he took it in his, pushing down the feeling of ease at the view of his large hand being able to almost engulf hers.

"We'll see you later, George," Ron said to his brother.

"Bring me back a souvenir," George grinned. "Maybe one of those Mickey Mouse ears with my name on it, yeah?"

"Will do."

Harry tightened his hold on Hermione's hand as he felt himself swirling through a tight tube in the air. He was not afraid – although a part of him was somewhat worried whether Ron remembered the park correctly – but he just wanted to enjoy the fact that he could still feel the warmth of Hermione's small hand in his palm even through the cool breeze.

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed when they landed within the park was the large castle ahead of them, the sound of children's laughter, the cackles of adults acting as if they were a child again, the smell of delicious meals from around the world, large costumes of cartoon characters he had seen Lily watch on television, large balloon in the shape of a mouth, street vendors, and most importantly, he saw the happy look on Hermione's face as the effect of the area finally affected her.

"Dad! Look!" Lily squealed in excitement, tugging on Harry's arm and his eyes away from Hermione, as she pointed ahead of them. "It's Pluto!"

Harry looked straight forward to see a large furry costume of a bright yellow dog with thin black ears and white anime eyes surrounded by a small crowd of children he assumed to be between the ages of five and Lily's age. He wondered how the kids could not see that it was clearly a man or woman inside a sewed costume but he rather not spoil it for them or their imaginations will be ruined for good.

"Happy birthday, darling." Harry heard Ron's voice over the screech of a group of young girls that had raced past them and he glanced from the corner of his eye to see Ron leaned down to give Hermione a chaste kiss on the lips. It did not set a fire within Harry's stomach like he expected to happen but he did feel the burn in his heart when he saw the warm smile full of devotion she made for Ron.

"Thank you, sweetie," Hermione said. "This is all lovely."

"LOOK!" Hugo suddenly screamed. "IT'S JACK SPARROW!"

The young red haired boy yanked his hands away from his parent's to break off into a run down the direction where he spotted the loved character of Pirates of the Caribbean. Lily lets go of Harry's hand and followed her cousins with equal, the two small figures nearly disappearing from within the crowd if their flaming heads were not so noticeable.

"Hugo! Lily!" Hermione called desperately but then released a resigned sigh. "Well, it _was_ lovely."

Harry and Ron laughed. Rolling her eyes, Hermione looped her arms through her two male best friends and then tugged them forward, heading down the same path where their children had escaped to.

Needless to say, the day went spectacular for the family. They met every Disney character they spotted, to the kid's delight, and had taken pictures with them with a Polaroid camera that Hermione's mother had given to Ron for the day. They entered in all the shops to look through the displays and buy a couple of sweet for the children. Ron had managed to get the souvenir Mickey Mouse ears that George asked for.

The rapid rides were Hermione's least favorite part. She never liked being off the ground whether it was on a broom or Hippogriff, she had told Ron when he tried to convince her to go on the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. Harry had to carry her in the line on his shoulder, ignoring her protests and giving quite an amusing show to the park guests joining the same ride. In the end, she was thrilled by the adrenaline that came from the turns and twists; she was loose enough to want to go on the next rollercoaster they pass by. The Country Bear Jamboree was an interesting show of audio-animatronic bear figures performing country music where they got to watch Hugo and Lily sing along to while dancing. It was a beautiful sight that Hermione had managed to capture it on camera.

Harry had requested that they tried the Haunted Mansion afterwards; they all exploded into laughter at the end of the ride when they saw the type of ghost that was going to "follow them" home. They had to sit on separate carts with Hugo and Lily sharing one while the others took the one after them. It was hilarious for them to see the holographic ghost acting clumsy and delightfully comedic whilst they past their reflections on the mirror. They went on the ride four times to see what kind of ghost they would have. They were lucky that the ride was five minutes long at the time.

When they went to Fantasyland, it was a struggle to leave because of Lily. She was a fanatic of The Little Mermaid and Cinderella. They decided to go on the Seven Dwarf's Mine Train, Under the Sea: Journey of the Little Mermaid, and then end their time in the area with It's a Small World. Ron and Harry preferred to hear the song of Hogwarts than hearing the theme song of the ride ever again and they were certain that they would have it stuck in their head for the rest of the day until they fall asleep. Later on, they would enjoy small snacks from the food stalls along the way; turkey legs, churros, cinnamon buns, popcorn, and salted pretzels with a large soda on the side. They were not full but it was enough to keep them at bay.

It was not till after they got off Dumber the Flying Elephant that they were able to take a break from walking. The kids needed to get refreshed and Ron had taken them to the nearest restroom he could find.

"To be honest, this day is much better than I had in mind," Harry said with a deep breath as he tilted his head back, basking in the radiance of the slowly setting sunlight, and then closed his eyes while he draped his arms over the back of the bench he was currently sitting on with Hermione.

"It really is," Hermione agreed. "Ron has really outdone himself this time."

"Better than last year?"

"Way better," Hermione nodded. "I'll never forget _that_."

"Still can't believe that goat nearly made you his mate," Harry laughed, his eyes still closed. "You have really odd admirers."

"I never understood why," Hermione grumbled nonchalantly, making Harry laughed once more. She shifted her weight to be able to face him, one leg tucked under the other. "So how are things at work?"

"No."

"What?"

"No speaking about work today. It's your birthday and all conversations that include the Ministry and magic are forbidden until midnight."

"You sound like a robot," Hermione deadpanned. Harry peeked one eye open at her. "What else is there to talk about?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "Just not about work."

Hermione sighed and leaned back into the bench. Harry can sense the skin of his arm shake at feel of her hair strands tickling him as she brought her head to rest upon it but he managed to seem unaffected by this. He actually liked the idea of her using him for support, almost like she rather lean on him than a wooden bench to feel collected after hours of endless walking through a large park as Disney. He could feel himself drifting away by the pressure of her head on him, picturing him being with her in a gentle slumber on an isolated beach of Blackpool, cradled inside a hammock while listening to the pulse of the waves and the distant screeches of the seagulls. It felt like paradise. It was a safe haven.

"I couldn't tell him."

The perfect scenery cracked and buckled like shattered glass at those words that were heard from Hermione. Harry snapped his eyes open and then squinted when he found himself staring into the sun.

"What?" he asked as he looked down at her. Hermione bit her lip and looked to the garbage bin next to the bench.

"I couldn't tell him," she repeated. "I couldn't tell him about the kiss, Harry."

Harry jumped. "Why not?"

"I was going to tell him last night," she said. "But then he told me about what he had planned today and I just couldn't. He looked so pleased with himself that I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment for him so I decided against it. He obviously put a lot of thought into this and for me to just go ahead and tell him I snogged his best friend – _our best friend_ – a few weeks ago…I just…couldn't."

"Oh," was all Harry could managed to utter. He was still processing what he just heard. _She didn't tell Ron because she didn't want to hurt his pride. So she didn't want to hurt him? Of course she doesn't...!But what does this does this mean? Are we having an affair? It was one kiss though. It's not like we shagged or anything. But it's still a secret we're keeping from Ron and Ginny so does that count as an affair? There_ was _alcohol involved so it's not entirely our fault…I'm confused…That's an understatement to everything that's been going on with me…_

Hermione glanced at him. "Did you tell Ginny?"

Harry tore himself away from his thoughts to reply, "No. I actually forgot to tell her. I was more focused on coming today. It must have slipped."

He heard her let go a breath she must have been holding. "That's good. I mean that's bad but I'm just glad that I'm not alone in this. I don't think I'd be able to face Ron if he didn't hear it from me instead of Ginny."

"If I had told Ginny I don't think I'd be here right now, Hermione."

"Yes. That's true."

"So what now?"

"I don't know," Hermione sighed. "This is a lot. And the timing is awful with this present but if we wait any longer it will be much worse."

They fell into silence, watching people jog past them. Hermione's lack of communication worried Harry. He knew that she was under a lot of pressure with her work on correction violations and with the weight of the Rowle case looming over her head hourly so for her to have such a secret of unfaithfulness is guarantee to take a toll on her. He wished that he had a Time-Turner with him to be able to go back to when the kiss had happened to stop it from happening and their lives would revert back on the right track as it used to be. It would have been a great benefit of relief for Hermione and for him from his inner battle of his emotions for her.

"We could just try to forget about it," Harry insisted before he could stop himself. He can hear Hermione's intake of breath but continued, "You and I know that what happened wasn't intentionally. You were vulnerable and I was under the influence of alcohol. We didn't know what we were doing but we know we were never do anything like that out of that state. That night was just…a mistake."

Hermione nodded, a look of consideration painted on her face. "That is true. But still…keeping it a secret?"

Harry's dream came to mind. "It wouldn't be the first. I mean we snogged before and Ron doesn't know about it."

"We were children at the time, Harry! That's entirely different!" Hermione was clearly appalled by this.

"But the concept is the same," Harry shot back. He sighed and turned to her. "Look, I'm also guilty for what happened that night and I wanted nothing more than to take it back." He felt a constricting tug in his heart when he said this but he shrugged it off. "But we know we won't do it purposely so we don't really need to worry about it. As wonderful as it was snogging you, I don't plan on doing it anytime soon." He tried to ignore the tiny voice in the back of his head that whispered " _Liar_ " accusingly at him.

Hermione let out an uncomfortable laugh before she turned to him with a gentle smile. "You're so weird, Harry Potter."

Harry took this with great pleasure to know that he was the one who caused her to make that beautiful smile right now, not Ron. Then he fell from his height when he realized what he was glad about and was tumbling down in horror.

He cleared his throat. "So we agree? We don't do it again?" He held out his hand. Hermione stared at it for a moment, contemplating the situation like Harry expected her to do naturally, before she gripped it with hers and gave it a light shook.

"Agreed."

As their hands slipped away, Ron had returned with Lily and Hugo, who seemed freshly content.

"Hey," he grinned once he reached them. "Since the sun is setting, I was thinking we ride Splash Mountain and then go look for some spots for the fireworks."

"That sounds nice," Hermione said. She hopped off the bench and stretched as Harry stood on his feet. "Supposedly, they're spectacular."

"I doubt it," Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes. "The fireworks back at the shop are ten times more fascinating than the plain ones the Muggles use."

"I'm sure it would leave them confused to see fireworks writing _Disney World_ over the sky," Hermione said, bemused. "That only happens in cartoons here."

"Rubbish if you ask me."

Harry released a breath, crossing his arms. Watching the dialogue between his friends was making him feel out of place. "We should get going."

"I want to ride up front!" Lily declared.

"I do too!" Hugo added.

Harry just took Lily's hand while Hermione and Ron took Hugo's, already making their way to where Splash Mountain is located. He walked behind them, listening to Lily predict how incredibly soaked she would be if she sat at the front row, but his attention was on Hermione as she talked to Hugo. He felt sad to see that she is able to act normal as if they had not shared an intense conversation a few minutes ago about their one night together and being able to treat him as just a friend – the same treatment he had gotten from her for twenty-six years since day one.

For some reason, he was hoping that she did not agree with him. To him, secrets are overrated.

* * *

They were able to get an excellent spot suitable to their liking in front of the castle. It was somewhat near the center, closer to the statue of Walt Disney holding hands with Mickey Mouse, and they were sitting on a patch of grass. Harry was sitting beside Hermione while she sat between him and Ron, the kids were eagerly bouncing on their knees in anticipation.

The place began dark with the castle glowing in a magenta color. Murmurs and whispered buzzed around the park.

"It's starting!" Hugo gasped breathless.

A streak of white and green was seen gliding in the sky towards the castle as the sounds of twinkles and tinks were heard from miles away, the noise still clear to the ears of one but unsure on where it could be coming from. The streak could be seen coming down from a wire as it went towards the very tip of the tallest tower of the castle, its wings spreading.

"It's Tinkerbelle!" Lily squealed as she watched the worldwide known fairy finally touch the tower and then everything went pitch black.

Harry was confused. _That's an odd way to end the night_.

Suddenly, he jumped in surprised when there was a burst of light seen rocketing upward into the night sky in jagged lines, straights of sputtering fire seen fading on the trail behind. Then at the very middle of the stars, the lines exploded into a great ball of crackling fire as it overtook the dark. One by one, a new spark would be seen lightening up, the sight making the park guest exclaim in awe and then gasp in amazement. The explosions boomed over the place, echoing away from his ears as colors of violet, blue, red, gold, and white painted the dark canvas sky, creating a fire masterpiece.

"Oh my," Harry heard Hermione breathed out and when he turned to her, he suddenly found the fireworks to be dull in comparison to what he was staring. She was gazing up at the sky with wide wondrous eyes, each bomb making them brighten up in a gorgeous amber color that made the ones above seem pale. She had one hand hovering over her slightly parted mouth, indicating her disbelief at the show she was brought to for her.

She was practically beaming and Harry can feel himself swell in pleasure to see her in such elation. Harry swallowed hard at the feeling.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," he heard himself say. He had to stop himself from gasping when her gaze turned to him, the sensation held in them never dimming, and her parted lips came together to form a true smile.

"Thank you, Harry, for coming" she said before she turned to Ron. "And thank you, honey. This is all so beautiful."

Ron blushed as she gave him a peck on the cheek before she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his torso and rested her head on his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Neither Hugo nor Lily were aware of the public display of affection between them. Harry wished he had their attention span.

With a sigh, Harry looked back up at the light show blowing up the sky. His hand unconsciously went inside the pocket where he still held the gift he bought for Hermione earlier at Diagon Alley and he fingered it for a moment, wondering if he should hand it to her now or wait until they went back home. He peered over at his cuddling friends for a minute: Hermione had moved one hand her hand to lie on her thigh and Ron had one arm around her shoulders, limping over her collarbone. The tightening in his chest help him confirm to live in the present. Without thinking, he pulled out the shrunken wrapped box and brought his hand to her limp one, slipping it beneath to place the box in her palm before he retreated.

Hermione glanced at him curiously for a moment, looked down at her hand, and then back at him. Harry just smiled and nodded. She carefully enclosed her fingers around the box and pursed her lips, her brows furrowed.

 _Happy Birthday_ , he mouthed at her. She smiled at him before she went back to laying her head on Ron's shoulder.

As they all sat there watching the fireworks, Harry realized something. The way how the show brighten up Hermione's face is the same way how it glowed the night when they shared their first kiss. He did not see it until now that the way how her hair would become red, light brown, honey brown, and then golden in various angles. It was as if there was no specific color to her hair. It made him want to run his fingers through it to see if it felt soft as it looked and maybe, just maybe, he could be able to grip it if he ever got to kiss her again.

But he had to crush that hope sadly. Because he had promised her that they would not do it again. He had to reassure her that as well as himself that what they did was unintentional but Harry knew that on his part it was beyond it. He was not dazed by the alcohol but he was fueled by feelings that had surfaced from him that night with Hermione. He acted on them without knowing until he did it. He was the most guilty part between them because he was sober while she was drunk on vulnerability and alcohol. He had taken advantage of her. He hated to think that way but it was a fact he cannot deny. And it actually pained him that she did not do the same to him.

Because as much as Harry should resist it, he cannot find the willpower to not accept that he wish Hermione had her way with him with purpose and secret intentions.

He finally noticed for the first time in twenty-six years, he had always wanted to kiss her and now that he had gotten a taste of it again, he is now addicted to her.

* * *

 **Bowman Wright:** _was a skilled metal charmer who lived in Godric's Hollow sometime during the Middle Ages. Born to a witch mother and a Muggle father, he invented the Golden Snitch as a replacement for the endangered Golden Snidget, combining his interest in science, magic, and sports._

 **Merwyn the Malicious:** _was a medieval wizard credited with the invention of many unpleasant jinxes and hexes_

 **Gwenog Jones:** _started her education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1979, it's unknown what house she was sorted into. After Gwenog graduated from Hogwarts she became a professional Quidditch player and later achieved fame as the captain and Beater of the Welsh all-female Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies._

 **Please Review!**


	9. Unexpected Return

**A:N:** I don't own Harry Potter, the characters or locations used in it, and the songs mentioned.

I really liked how this chapter came out. I struggled a bit how to describe certain things but it came out how I wanted it to. I love it and I hope you do to!

Enjoy!

* * *

 _(Do I wanna know)_

 _If this feeling flows both ways?_

 _(Sad to see you go)_

 _Was sort of hoping that you'd stay_

 _(Baby we both know)_

 _That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day_

Do I Wanna Know; Artic Monkeys

* * *

 _"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy. Remember that."_

\- Nicholas Sparks

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Unexpected Return**

Harry felt like he was living a lie. How anyone could easily get away with a secret was beyond him. He felt as if every time Ginny looked at him, she would see straight through his façade. He feared that each time she touched him; she would sense that he was yearning for the soft skin he was familiar with rather than her smooth ones. He had thrown himself in his own work, acting edgy and distant from the other officers and never leaving his office until it was time for lunch with Hermione. That was when the other noticed the change in his demeanor; he would seem loose and gentle whenever he was seen leaving the premises with Hermione. He explained to them that he was under stress with the cases and it was Hermione's remedy to take him away before he fell in the pressure. But he knew it was because he got to steal a couple of minutes of her day to himself.

Sometimes she would bring Gerald or Julie to lunch if they were not appointed to do any errands and Harry would be relieved of either of their presence. Their stories of their unique childhood and their adventures were interesting enough to distract Harry from Hermione. Since their agreement, Harry found it incredibly difficult to seem normal around her but she had reverted back to her ways as if their intense conversations and their night had been nothing but a dream. It reminded him how they acted with their first but the difference was he had nothing to distract him into forgetting and he had sleepless nights where he was just stay thinking about everything to the smallest detail. He wondered how he had not been greatly affected like this in their first year.

They all had agreed to make more dinner dates and Harry was not opposed to the idea. He felt like he was thrown back to the days when they were all very close through the harshness. On Fridays they would have it at the Weasley home and on Saturdays it will be hosted at the Potter residence. On the same days, they're children would take turns to stay overnight. It was a pleasant way in the morning to wake up too; the squeals and cheers of a niece and a nephew spending their times together was something worth waking up to. All four adults loved to see them running in the backyards and hopping on the stairs.

But Harry was glad to have an excuse to see Hermione often whether she comes to eat for dinner or to pick up Hugo from his house. Since he and her stay late they are not the ones to pick up the children but they do end up leaving the Ministry together. Harry takes advantage of those moments with her even during the seconds he has left to see her as she disapparate.

He tried not to stray in his thoughts for long about her.

Currently, he was in his office signing approvals for charges of small cases that had been reported in that morning. There was one of a young kid performing underage magic in the bustling streets of Muggle London; a young girl by the age of seven had caused jars of candy in a gas station to implode and three Obliviations were needed to the witnesses. Charges were put on the parents of the witch and a hearing is to be included with the members of the Wizangmot. He signed in the declined section before adding it to the pile on his left. It was clearly a newly discovered witch and she would be scared out of her wits if she is present to the wizarding world so sudden than she had already. She did not have a chance to even learn how to control her magic and for her to be in court for something that wasn't really her fault was considered unfair. He would later send a letter to Headmistress McGonagall about the new awaiting witch.

A knock on the door was heard and then a click of the knob followed as the door was pushed open. A dark skin woman with large brown eyes and long curly hair was seen peering into the crack of the door.

"Chief Potter?"

Harry glanced up briefly before returning to signing the remaining papers. "Yes, Romilda?"

"Counselor Granger is here for you," she declared gruffly.

"Oh?" Harry's eyes brightened as an affectionate squeeze tighten in his chest. He dropped his quill in the inkpot and rose up to get his coat from the rack nearby. "Tell her I'll be right out."

"Is there anything else you need, sir?" Romilda asked politely with a coy smile.

"No. That will be all, Ms. Vane."

Romilda nodded and disappeared, closing the door tightly. Harry slipped his dark gray coat on and then cleared his desk with a swish of his wand, sending the papers back in their recent files. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to make it seem neat but then he gave up when he saw that it looked the same no matter how much he tried, and made his way out of his office.

When he stepped out the door, he saw Hermione talking to Arnold casually, letting out a laugh here and there as they civilized. The soft blue dress she is wearing hugged her womanly curves and the thin black belt made it much defined. The black mid-heels made her seem taller, close to reaching above his jaw, and her legs seem longer, a trail that seemed endless even when it disappeared beneath the hem of her dress. The black purse went along with her outfit. She looked graceful yet casual. Something that she was common in doing with simple clothing.

But what amazed Harry was that she is wearing the necklace he bought for her again. He remembered how she showed her appreciation toward him the following day with tight hugs and tender kisses to the cheek. She had found it thoughtful of him to get her a present that represented her for who she is. An otter is born as a mammal but can go in water like an aquatic creature like she was born thinking to be just a Muggle but is actually a witch. It was very Hermione-like to point out a fact out of the blue.

"It even has my birthstone," she had told him. "I never told anyone what it is. This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given to me. Thank you, Harry!"

The elation in her eyes, the bright in her smile, and the sheer joy in her voice – it all brought Harry pleasure to know he is the reason why.

Harry walked over to Arnold's cubicle with his hands buried deep in the pocket of his coat as he and Hermione shared another round of laughter.

"Hey," he said.

Hermione turned to him, the smile never leaving her face. "Harry, hey. Ready for lunch?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded.

Hermione looked at Arnold. "I'll see you around, Auror Grumps," she said kindly.

"Have a good one, Counselor Granger," he retorted. He turned to Harry. "And Chief, what about your meeting with Proudfoot?"

"I'll head over as soon as I'm done with lunch," Harry answered.

"Alright, sir."

Harry glanced at Hermione and offered his arm to her. Hermione rolled her eyes as she accepted his arm and then pulled with her as she began to walk down the path to the elevators, sending a quick wave to Arnold. Several eyes flashed at the pair, neither of them not showing anything below curiosity or suggestive. Harry opened slid the door open for Hermione to enter first before following and then pressed the button for the Atrium level.

"Where you have in mind for today?" Hermione asked as she grabbed onto the handholds dangling above them. "I picked last time."

"Hmm." Harry whacked his brain around for a minute to pinpoint an excellent location. He smiled a bit as a thought came to mind. "How about Hogsmeade? Three Broomsticks?"

Hermione knitted her eyebrows as she stared at Harry curiously. "Why there?"

"From what I read in Albus' last letter, it's Hogsmeade weekend," Harry said, sending a devious wink at Hermione, making her giggle. "Maybe we'll bump into some of the kids on the way."

"I doubt we'll see Molly there," Hermione stated. "Like her father, she is Head Girl. She would be busy trying to keep prefects in control and doing future plans for this term's Yule Ball. Poor child must be under pressure."

"Was it as bad when you were Head Girl?"

The lift stopped in a strong halt. Harry pulled the metal door aside and allowed Hermione to step forward, one of his hands barely gazing over the small of her back as he walked behind her. Hermione took his arm again to make sure they stayed together as they pushed their way through the throng of people coming in for their daily shift, other leaving early and some going in on their lunch break also.

"It wasn't entirely bad," Hermione answered honestly. "It certainly was nothing like being a prefect. One had to make sure all the schedules are arranged correctly, night patrols, docking points from students caught, doing meetings for activities, and whatnot. Hardly had time to go to Hogsmeade myself."

"At least you had the Head Boy," Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. "No Head Boy. It was just me."

"What?" Harry blinked. "Why?"

Hermione pursed her lips and glanced down at her feet as they continued to walk towards one of the fireplaces, where witches or wizards are seen entering and exiting from. While they stood in line, Harry kept staring down at Hermione in concern, lifting one hand to gently place it on hers in his elbow and lightly caressing the back of her hand.

"Hermione?"

Hermione exhaled softly. "The boy who was supposed to be appointed Head Boy died in the war," she said lowly. "He was identified as one of the casualties."

The line moved forward and they moved ahead.

Harry frowned. "Who was it?" he asked.

"Jacob Matthews."

Harry was sure his intake of breath could be heard from a mile away.

Jacob Matthews was a fellow Gryffindor classmate of theirs since first year. He was a shy kid back then, only speaking in classes when he was called on and participating in physical lessons. He was an intelligent guy, not close to Hermione, but he was decent enough in behavior and mind to be given the responsibilities to have control on the students. He had willingly participated in the Battle of Hogwarts and he was cornered by one of the Death Eaters in the Astronomy Tower. He remembered seeing him lying among the bodies of the many fallen

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The wizard in front of them disappeared into a green flame before it dissipated. Harry grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the basin on the side of the grate and added half into Hermione's open palm.

"You first," he said.

Hermione went forward and whirled around once she was inside and then dropped the powder as she yelled out "Three Broomsticks!" causing a wall of green flames to engulf her. A minute later, the fire diminished without a trace of her. Harry entered immediately and copied the procedure, his vision instantly blinded by flashing colorful lights whilst a tight sensation emerged in his gut as he felt himself floating in air. He kept himself steady through the ride until he found himself sliding out of the fireplace in Three Broomsticks and staring at Hermione's ankles.

"Quite a graceful entrance, Mr. Potter," she giggled, bending her knees slightly as she held out her hand.

"I was never really good at Floo powder," Harry commented wholeheartedly as he accepted her hand and heaved himself onto his feet with his held. He glanced down at himself then chuckled a little as seeing he was covered in ashes and rubble. "I think I'll stick to Apparation," he added as he dusted himself.

"Here." Hermione took out her wand from within her purse and pointed it to him. " _Fuliginis Remotionem_ ," she murmured and then a fanning of air blows into Harry, making all the soot and ashes swish off of him in a second. "Better?"

"Loads." Harry grinned. "Is there a spell you don't know?"

Hermione shrugged though she had a small smile. She stuffed her wand back in her purse.

The inn was warm as always and very crowded. The atmosphere was smoky and filled with the aroma of well-cooked meals and scents of beverages. Loud conversations were heard all around, some chortling rudely, others enthusiastically expressing stories, but there was no sense of negativity found. The place was lively, calm, and welcoming. There was a truce or brotherhood and sisterhood even among witches and wizards who have lifelong rivalries. The place was their but they still treat it with respect.

"Chief Potter! Hermy! Over here!"

Hermione rolled her eyes with a groan as she twirled around to the sound of her male assistant. She saw him sitting in a booth at the corner of the place, waving his arm over his head.

"So much for a quiet lunch break," Hermione said sarcastically while she and Harry slowly walked over to the booth.

Harry smirked. "You could always fire him."

"Hmm, no." Hermione laughed. "I like his company. Sure, he can be somewhat loud and obnoxious sometimes but he's nice to have around. Makes the office seem less lonely."

"You have Julie."

"She's tolerable."

"Ah."

They reached the booth by now and Harry lets Hermione slide in first before he went in next. A woman, in her early forties, came by the table and handed each of them a menu before she left. Not until sending a flirtatious smirk towards Harry's way. But Harry did not notice it; he was actually watching Hermione from the edge of his menu.

"Thot," Gerald mumbled.

Hermione and Harry glanced up at him, matching looks of confusion.

"Um…what?" Harry inquired.

"Thot," Gerald repeated with a shrug.

"We heard you but what does that mean?" Hermione asked.

"It's this slang word that kids use nowadays," Gerald explained. "I have a niece living in the States. I always hear her and her friends use that word whenever they're criticizing another bird. Apparently it means slut, hoe, or whore."

"So basically a slag?" said Harry.

"Pretty much."

"I'll never understand kids these days," Hermione mumbled. "What they're doing with the English language is a shame. Some of the words don't even make sense."

"At least they're easier to understand than the ones you use," Gerald countered, resulting to Hermione folding up her menu and smacking him on the head. "Hey! That's assault and battery!"

Harry chuckled as he watched the two banter. Sometimes he wondered why Hermione would put up Gerald's snide ways and rude comments. But as he watched them squabbling, he understood now that she may have hired him because Gerald was like a mixture of him and Ron; arrogant and frustrating but humorous and managing. He would push her to her limits but would have her cool-headed.

"You're such a tosser." Harry heard Hermione say to Gerald, who laughed in return. Harry looked to see Gerald slung an arm around Hermione shoulder and gave her a grin. Harry did not like the view of seeing another man have her wrapped in their arms if it was not his.

"You love me, Hermy, you know it," Gerald said.

"Sure," Hermione said sarcastically but a genuine smile was on her face.

Harry cleared his throat and looked down on his menu. Just then a curvy woman with a pretty face came walking to the booth with a pair of glittery open-toed high heels heard clanking the wooden floor as she walked. She had a tray full of glasses filled with butterbeer to the brim.

"Hello lovelies," she greeted politely.

"Hello Madam Rosmerta," Hermione smiled.

Rosmerta then took the glasses of butterbeer from the tray and placed each of them in front of the three on the table before tucking the tray under her arm.

"On the house," she said. "I never forget my three regular customers. Two in this case."

"Thanks you, Madam Rosmerta," Harry said. "That's awfully nice of you."

"Where is the third one?" Rosmerta asked. "Ronald was his name?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "He's working right now in Diagon Alley with his brother at the shop."

"That's nice to hear, dear," Rosmerta said. She produced a notepad and a small quill from the front pocket of her apron. "What could I get for you lot?"

Harry picked the first thing he saw on the menu. "I'll have the chicken and ribs platter."

Rosmerta quickly scribbled down the order on the notepad before turning to Hermione. "And you?" she asked.

"I'll have the Cornish pasties with the garden salad," Hermione said.

"I'll be with those in a minute." Rosmerta gave them another inviting smile before she left with the clacks of her heels.

"You're not eating anything, Gerald?" Hermione asked, noticing that he did not have a menu and a half-filled glass of Firewhiskey.

"I already ate," he said. "You took too long." He took a quick swing of his beverage and placed the glass on the table. "So what's new in life?"

"The usual," Harry said. "Cases – violations – kids."

"Same basic routine, eh?" Gerald clicked his tongue. "I don't know how you're able to handle all of that."

"Sometimes I wonder the same thing," Hermione chuckled humorlessly before she took a sip of her butterbeer. "Hugo is much like his father in every way when he was young – loud, rude, and sometimes a bit insensitive. His eating habits are similar too. But he's extremely likable. I just hope that his form of speech isn't the same as Ron."

Harry took his glass and lifted it to his lips. "Well, technically it's already started," Harry smirked into his glass, referring to the night when they had first heard Hugo curse like Ron.

"I'll make sure it never happens again," Hermione said. She placed her hand on his forearm. "I need to go to the loo."

"Oh!" Harry quickly shimmied out of the booth and stood up as Hermione moved out. He held his hand for her to take and help her out of the booth. She gave him a grateful smile and lightly squeezed his arm.

"I'll be back," she said before she walked away.

Harry slides back into the booth and took another sip of his butterbeer, keeping his gaze on Hermione as she trudge through the thin spaces of the packed place, noticing that the sway of her hips would make the hem of dress would swish along with her movements. It is not the first time he would be staring at a woman's backside – he had done it many times with Cho Chang, Katie Bell, Pavarti Patil, and with Ginny – but he felt awful for being caught in staring at Hermione's when she actually deserved to be looked at in a loving manner, not sexually. He could use the stereotype excuse that he was just being a guy but he found that a pathetic excuse.

 _Bloody hormones_ , Harry thought angrily as he took a big gulp of butterbeer and slammed the glass on the table with much force than he intended. _Seriously, how old am I? Fourteen again? Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic._

"If you look any harder, your eyes will fall out, mate," Gerald deadpanned.

Harry started at his voice, nearly knocking over his glass.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

Gerald seemed unconvinced at this. "Right. As if you weren't just lusting over Hermy just now."

"I wasn't lusting," Harry kept denying. "Why would I lust over Hermione? She's my best friend."

"True," Gerald mused as he intently watched Harry take a sip out of his butterbeer, taking his Firewhiskey and swirl it around in his glass. "A best friend who you also snogged."

Harry choked on his drink and leaned forward, holding his glass near his mouth as he sputtered the substance back into the cup, creating a surface of foamy cream. Some were on the corners of his mouth.

"From your reaction, I can confirm that Hermy wasn't messing with me," Gerald said nonchalantly, seeing Harry reach for a napkin from the middle and hastily wiped it over his mouth with unnecessary force.

"H-Hermione told you?"

"Yeah she did. Either way it's not like she was doing a good job at hiding it – at least not from me. She caved before I can finish asking her. Burst out in tears, that one."

"Oh." Harry looked down at his hands with a frown. Although, he pictured Hermione under pressure from the times he seen her frustrated with school work or how upset she seemed when she got his Firebolt confiscated in third year but he realized he never saw her look guilty for love. She never cheated on anything in her life except death. He did not consider how she felt. How selfish of him.

"So what happened?" Gerald inquired. "I mean, I heard everything from Hermy but what's your story?"

"Same as hers," Harry said bluntly. "It was an emotional night with her dad being in the hospital and her suddenly disappearing, so…"

Gerald rolled his eyes. "I know all about that. I mean what's your story on the kiss? Why did you snog her?"

 _I'm still trying to figure that out_ , Harry thought angrily but calmly spoke, "Alcohol."

"Really?" Gerald snorted. "You seem to forget that we used to go to the pubs together and I know it takes more than one glass to get you bladdered."

Harry just stayed quiet, pursing his lips while cursing at his high tolerance.

"Why'd you snog her?"

"I don't know," Harry said truthfully. "Like I said – it was an emotional night."

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Gerald clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I've had my fair share of emotional nights and not one of them has me lying in bed with my best friend and snogging them while listening to the Cranberries."

 _She really went into detail. Typical of Hermione._ Harry lifted his glass to his lips but he saw the while foam dissolve and placed it back down. It didn't seem edible to him anymore.

"So why?" Gerald asked again.

 _Persistent much?_ Harry weaved his fingers through his hair as he sighed. "I don't know…I just…" he trailed off.

He thought about the night; he thought about how his desperation on Hermione's absence made him feel like he was losing his sanity – the relief he felt when he found her – the anger he felt when she told him about her struggles as a Muggle – the amazement of learning her history with her father – the interest of learning why she loved Muggle music and the way how she grew up with it. All the things she told him is something that was well-suited for a girl like Hermione but he had a hard time imagining it until he saw it.

"I guess," Harry started. "It's because I learned something new about Hermione…" It sounded like a question.

Gerald's eyes became interested.

"She doesn't really talk about her life before Hogwarts much – the only thing I knew about her parents was that they're dentists. She never talked about her life in primary school, what she would do on the weekends. But that night, she told me a lot about herself that I didn't know and it made me realize…she was like me in a way." Harry's eyes widen at this discovery. "She had parents but the lifestyle was similar to mine. I guess that's why she's so loyal and why she stuck with me. She understood that part of me without me knowing it. I feel like I took advantage of that."

"Took advantage of what?"

Harry jumped at the sound of Hermione's voice and glanced over his shoulder to see her using the back of the booth as she readjusted the strap of her heel, grumbling.

"Er…we…we w-were just-"

"Hermy!" Gerald exclaimed. "About time you got here! Harry was just telling me interesting stories of his missions. He was just telling me how he took advantage of this bloke when he took his wand away."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, her eyes doubtful. Harry was feeling anxious under her scrutinizing gaze. One of the many things about her was that she is an observant person and even when he thinks he is hiding something well, she had already found the problem. So he was shocked that she shrugged, muttering a disgruntled "Men and violence" and slid back in the booth next to him. The small distance between their arms has him tingling.

Just then, Madam Rosmerta came with their meals, the tray carrying two plates creating trails of arousing streams.

"Here you go," she said as she placed the plates in front of Harry and Hermione before she left to attend the other tables that had called for her.

"So how's everything with the case?" Harry asked to turn his attention away from his thumping heart.

Hermione sighed. "We still can't find a way to prove he wasn't under the Imperius Curse. Twinky isn't any help either. I tried visualization with her but as soon as she's close to remembering she breaks down."

"Why not try the Visualization Charm?" Harry insisted. "Much simpler."

"That required the recipient to be calm and focused," Hermione said. "Twinky is anything but. She was terrified when she saw my wand and I have no doubt her mind is scrambled. She was still under the Imperius Curse when we found her and when we freed her from it, she was hysterics."

"She's in therapy with Dr. Wayne," Gerald added. "Finest of the RCMCD."

"Isn't he a Squib?" Harry asked.

"That's what makes it better for Twinky," Gerald said. "No magic – no terror. She'll be fine the next time we see her."

"Every day we get a new report on her progress," said Hermione before taking a bite of her platter. Harry noticed she'd lick her lips before she'd take a bite and he felt idiotic for noticing such a small detail about her.

"Is she getting any better?"

"Barely," Gerald muttered, earning a quick smack to the arm from Hermione.

"She's just scared," she corrected. "She hardly has any recollection of her life. We need to be patient with her."

Gerald held up his hands. "I'm just saying, Hermy, time flies quickly and if she's our only chance to close this case, we need to move fast."

"I know that," Hermione said. "Even if we can't get any more vital information out of her, we still have her statement from the snippets she gave us. If we look hard enough, I'm sure we'll find something."

"A loophole," Harry guessed.

Hermione grinned. "Evidence."

"Same thing," Harry said while reaching a fork in Hermione's plate, trying to take a piece of her platter, but she had slapped his hand away and gave him a shove that nearly made him tumble over. "So violent."

"Don't touch my food," Hermione laughed.

"So what about you Harry?" Gerald was staring at him intently. "How goes your hunting of dark wizards and witches?"

Harry swallowed the piece of chicken he was eating and gently pushed the remains of his dish to avoid Gerald's stare.

"Mph, it's going good. One of my officers came in from a mission of hers and I'm about to head over to St. Mungo's later to get her report and see where Jugson could be heading next. Hopefully, I'll find out where Yaxley is hiding as well."

"It's Proudfoot, isn't it?" Hermione asked tentatively. "I heard it from Marsha. Says she must have been injured badly to be sent to St. Mungo's right away."

Harry scratched his neck. "Yeah. She suffered minor burns and damages from the Cruciatus Curse."

Hermione gasped, placing her fingers to her gawking mouth, while Gerald whistled in astonishment.

"Hopefully they're not fatal," Harry murmured.

Hermione gently puts her hand on his forearm, softy rubbing it there with her thumb. Harry can hope that she did not feel him start at her sudden touch or the shivering of his arm as she caressed him. He had to take deep breaths to remain normal.

"Don't blame yourself, Harry," Hermione said comfortingly. "I'm sure she's fine. She's been doing this for years. She probably had worse than this and she'll be able to get through it."

"We can only hope, Hermione."

The remaining of the lunch hour had passed through with humorous stories of Gerald's first few days working as Hermione's assistant and Harry's trainee years in the Auror academy until they realized that their time was slowly coming to an end. Hermione and Harry had left behind the right amount of pay on the table before the three of them had approached the fireplace.

"I'll see you later?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. Hermione leaned up place a gentle kiss on his cheek, one hand lightly on his arm, and when she pulled back, she made him confused with the disapproving frown she suddenly has on her face. She raised the hand from his arm to run her finger over his jawline.

"You really need to shave," she said. "It's not that hard."

Harry laughed.

Gerald had taken a handful of Floo powder from the basin and spilled half onto Hermione's palm before he stepped inside the fireplace. He had a grin but his eyes were direct and solid as he stared at Harry.

"Good luck with the hunting, Chief Potter," he said. "And with _everything_ else."

Swallowing hard, Harry gave him a smile and a nod. It seemed to satisfy Gerald because he immediately declared his location before dropping the powder and disappearing in the engulfing green flames. However, Harry could still feel the warning that Gerald was secretly messaging him through his eyes.

Hermione stepped inside the fireplace as soon as the fire dissipated and turned to Harry with a smile. She copied the procedure and soon she was gone from the spot. Once seeing this, Harry releasing a sigh of relief as the pressure of her existence and Gerald's nonstop stares disappeared into oblivion. The entire lunch he felt as if he was in the suffocating interrogation room under surveillance to report every movement he made or any word he spoke and if he ever did one wrong thing then he would be taken to Azkaban. It would be the first time in a while that he did not want to stay in lunch for a while longer with Hermione there, not when Gerald was there.

Stuffing one hand in his pocket and idly scratching the bridge of his nose, Harry quickly disapparated.

* * *

Sometimes Harry does wonder what do the Muggles think whenever they see a witch or wizard talking to the mannequin on the window display or see them disappear through the window. He knows there is a charm casted on the window to automatically Obliviate those who witness but he never stopped to think what goes through the mind of the Muggle who sees. Probably wonder to themselves if what they are was real or imaginative but they would never get the chance to confirm it because they would soon forget.

Purge and Dowse Ltd is still the same shabby department store with new, thicker layers of dust and the same piles of rubble. Rusted racks for clothes were seen piled up at the corners, sheets covering the front desk and some on the floor, the windows smudged and somewhat cracked. There were pieces of mannequin parts scattered about except for the one wholly together by the display window. It seemed even more hideous to Harry with the way how its fake eyelashes hung off and the green nylon pinafore was just too terribly bright for a dull place.

Harry leaned close to the window, looking up at the disturbing mannequin, his breath fogging up a small patch of the glass. A part of his felt nostalgic to be standing in the same spot where Nymphadora Tonks once stood when he first came to visit St. Mungo's.

"Wotcher," he said with a tiny smile. "Chief Potter here to see Auror Proudfoot."

The mannequin nodded its plastic head; Harry stepped through the window and soon he found himself in the middle of the ground floor of the famously known magical hospital. Unlike the medical wards in the Muggle world, it was more cheery in St. Mungo's. The Healers and Mediwizards are seen with a positive attitude rather than serious, the patients were relaxed to be inside the place, and the freshly healed were showing their gratitude to their appointed Healer. The last time he came in St. Mungo's was when the Order came to pick up Arthur Weasley and the time was a bit critical due to the war falling upon them but now it all seemed livelier.

Harry kept his hands inside the pockets of his coat as he walked ahead. The lady in the reception desk did not stop him when she saw him step past her and heading to the lift, but only sent him an encouraging yet coy smile as she watched him interestingly with a shy blush. He gave her a polite smile before he moved forward. He could hear her whisper quietly to her coworker sitting beside her.

"Janice, there he is! The Harry Potter! You think he's here for that other Auror?"

"He is the Head of the Auror Department, I have no doubt. Merlin, did you see his smile? Much dreamier in person."

"That Ginny is lucky she's married to him. I wonder how he's like in the sack. They do have three children so I bet she must lust after him all the time! I know I would."

"Ugh, if only I wasn't married. The wonders I'd do to that wonderful man."

Harry coughed as he scratched his stubble cheek uncomfortably, feeling his cheeks heat up heavily. He was used to hearing the female population desire after him even though he was committed but he did not like being the center of their conversations and lust.

"Oh, I think he heard you. Quit being so blatant, Janice!"

"S-sorry."

Harry breathed in relief to hear the doors slide open and immediately stepped inside before the formed crowd behind him could react. He did not want to hear any more of the nurse's conversation. He quickly pressed the button for the fourth floor before he leaned against the rail and tilted his head back with a sigh as he waited.

He thought back to his conversation with Gerald at Three Broomsticks. It was all a blur to him. He could not believe that Hermione had spoken to Gerald about their secret – he cannot believe that he did not think about how she felt about their secret. He supposed he could not blame her; she did not have anybody else to talk to of their shame. He was not completely reliable of the whole situation. Ron and Ginny were the victims. And their fellow former classmates were around the world living their lives in the calm. Speaking about it to a close coworker seemed to be the last resort and Gerald was trustworthy to not spill the beans; he could have told Ron or Ginny but he had chosen to listen to Harry's side of the story.

Which brought to him to his newly found discovery; Hermione's somewhat similar lifestyle compared to his childhood. She had been bullied, emotionally and physically abused, all for being ahead of those in her grade. She did not have friends just like him only because the kids in his school were afraid of Dudley's gang of mischief lackeys to target them next. She found solace in her father while he just had a cupboard. But the scars and wounds were still the same from different lives. He never thought of that until Gerald asked him and Harry understood now why Hermione never left him; she understood his awkwardness of social interactions, she understood the lack of experience in love from others, she understood the fear of abandonment, the fear of being alone again, and he understood his nightmares of losing what he learned to hold dear.

She was scared little girl underneath all the towers of textbooks and cleverness like he was a scared little boy beneath the heroic image and the strength of his wand. That is why she clung onto him – they're one in the same.

He never thought the reasons why until today. Hermione had said that he was her first friend back in Hogwarts but he never went in depths to her truly meaning that he was her first friend ever. He felt honored by this. Being someone's first anything is an irreplaceable position and although Ron is her first real relationship, her first time, her first husband, he is her very first friend. He found he got the most important first of Hermione's life. Having her first kiss was second best to being her first friend. He will cherish that.

The doors to the lift opened, the sudden halt breaking Harry out of his thoughts, and he stepped out. In St. Mungo's, since the hunt for wanted Death Eaters and Snatchers began, there is a room specifically reserved for injured Aurors. Many would return from their risky missions in critical conditions over the years that the Head Healer chose to have an extra room built for them and being able to aid them as soon as they enter the place. It was an intelligent decision.

Harry went inside the room at the end of the corridor; it was large and wide. Two rows of beds, occupied or not, were lined up on either side of the room with the curtains drawn. There were not that many Healers seen attending Aurors because the majority of them were healed well and just resting until it is time for them to check out. There were pots of flowers hung at the edges of the ceiling to give the room a welcoming feel and pictures of landscapes seen moving flawlessly.

It was not hard for Harry to spot Proudfoot. Her sunny yellow hair was what seemed like a sun at the corner of the room and her tanned skin was easily seen in contrast to her hair. She was content as she read a small novel that she may have requested from one of the Healers assigned to her, but the burn marks seen on her neck, the knuckles of her hands, and on her elbows were seen in the process of curing. Her short hair was wrapped in heavy layers of bandages where he can see dotted red had seeped through.

He made his way toward the witch. "Proudfoot," he greeted.

Proudfoot's head snapped up from the book, her eyes expectant and surprised to see him standing at the foot of her bed.

"Chief Potter!" said the witch, blinking. "Hello!"

"How are you?" Harry asked tentatively, pulling a chair close by and sat down.

"Still sore but managing," she said with a shrug. "Healer Likely said I'll be able to leave around next Tuesday."

"Nothing serious I hope," Harry inquired.

"I only suffered some headaches and a bit of internal bleeding but with a quick surgery I am new," Proudfoot answered lightly. "Some of my wounds have taken a while to heal because of Jugson's magic. I hope it ends quicker. These burn marks are irritating!"

Harry chuckled before he cleared his throat and his face became serious. "So what happened?"

"Geez," Proudfoot sighed, closing the small novel and laying it on her lap. "I don't know what happened. I was just following his tracks up the mountain when he suddenly showed up and we ended up dueling. I was close to overpowering him when he did this spell to make the animals go on a rampage against me. It wasn't the Imperius Curse but they were going under his command. Some mountain goat was able to knock me out before I could apparate out of there. Last thing I remember is waking up here."

"I see," Harry murmured. "And do you happen to know what he was doing there in the first place?"

"No, nothing," Proudfoot shook her head. Then she pursed her lip. "Well, I saw a tent but that's about it. He must have been hiding something valuable in there to make him want to attack me so rashly."

"Whatever it was, we'll find out," promised Harry, giving her a few light pats on her leg before rising up from the chair. "For now on you rest. You deserve it after being away for so long. I'm sure your family will be glad to hear about your return. I'll make sure to owl them."

"Wait! Chief Potter!"

"Yes?"

"Inside my coat," Proudfoot said, pointing at the material slung over a hanging in the wall next to her bed. "I managed to rip a piece off of Jugson's shirt before I went unconscious. Maybe it will help you search for them faster."

Harry went over to the mentioned coat and searched through the several pockets, feeling loose coins on his fingers and undoing the zippers on others. He looked in the breast pocket where he found a smooth piece of fabric brush across his fingertips and he gripped on it as he pulled it out of the pocket. He opened his hand to see a ripped cotton piece laying on his palm.

"I'm sorry it's all I could bring back," Proudfoot mumbling, lowering her head a bit in shame.

"No, what you have is more than enough," Harry said. "This could be a great lead we've had in years to where all Death Eaters or Snatchers could be hiding. You did a well job. I'll send this over to forensics and see what we will find."

He gave her a small smile. Proudfoot blushed a little.

"Thank you, Chief," she said.

"You deserve to rest," Harry retorted. "When you leave, you go home and take extra days to relax. You've earned it."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll make sure to owl your family," he said. "I'm sure they'll love to hear about you coming home."

Proudfoot nodded. Harry held out his hand to her and she took it to share a shake of gratitude as he gave her another smile.

"Rest easy," he said.

"Will do, sir." Proudfoot nodded.

Harry lets go of her hand before he turned around and made his way towards the doors. As he stepped through, he gripped onto the piece of fabric tightly, silently hoping that he would be able to proceed forward on the search.

* * *

Returning back to the Ministry, Harry was quick to head to the Investigation Department. The news of him visiting Proudfoot seem have traveled from St. Mungo's to the departments not too long ago because as he walked through the corridors, he can hear mutters and murmurs of his name buzz into his ears. He figured it must have been the two ladies at the reception desk. They did look to be the chatty type with the way they were obvious with their interest and not secretly desires towards him.

He ignored them as he went into the Investigation Department and walked straight through the unsettling employees walked from side to side until he made it to the door for the Forensics Department. His eyes were blinded with red fluttering around as witches and wizards moved with vials of potions and chemicals towards one table to another. He swiftly walked around them, hearing them speak their greetings of his presence, others asking him about his visit, and some wondering why he was there but he did not answer them. He was too focused to hear them either way.

Once he reached the door with the plate FORENSICS: ANNABETH JONES, he pushed through with an elbow and entered. The room was the same as the medical examination room except it was full of shelves covering every inch of every four walls and odd odors that made Harry scrunch his nose. There was only one table in the center of the room where he can see a woman with long black hair that reaches to her backside and dark eyes. She had tattoos of spider webs seen on her neck and Harry could see some of her bare legs since she is wearing a ruffle skirt. She was also wearing a blood red lipstick that seems to make her robe look pale in comparison.

"Jones?" he called out hesitantly. It had not been the first time he came to her for a case of his but he had never gotten used to her gothic appearance.

The witch looked up from the microscope she has been looking into, her dark eyes suddenly bright and a streak of white seen between her red lips.

"Chief Potter," she nodded. "To how may I be of acquaintance?"

Harry cleared his throat as he approached her at the table. "I was hoping to borrow your time for a bit. There's something I need you to look at."

"Yes!" she grinned excitedly. She gestured him to come closer to her, the sleeves of her robe fluttering with her movements, as she walked around the table. "What is it you need?"

Harry reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out the fabric piece, holding it out on his palm. "One of my officers came back with this. It's from the fugitive we're after. I was wondering if you can figure out where it is from."

Annabeth tightened her lips. "That's normally a job for the Trackers. I can't pinpoint where it comes from but I'm sure I can locate who was the last to touch it before you."

"That's enough," Harry said.

"Alright then." She took the fabric from Harry's hands and placed it on a tray before she went to one of the shelves to get a couple of vials. "How is Proudfoot? I heard about her."

"She's doing fine," Harry answered casually. "She's about to head home sometime next week."

"That's good," she said. "Hopefully it's soon."

"Yes."

Harry watched as Annabeth added a slightly transparent violet potion on the fabric before she pulled out her want from her sleeve and began to mutter under her breath, making the tip of her wand to spark a white glow, the radiance causing the fabric to match. The same color appeared around the iris of her eyes, leaving her pupils black. He can see dark prints mark over the in jagged lines.

"Well?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Hang on."

Harry felt somewhat impatient at how long it takes for one to detect or locate a DNA of someone from a small piece but then he realized that she must be trying to not mistaken the fingerprints with his or Proudfoot's because the both of them had held it. He never used the detection charm for his job but he could not imagine how difficult it must be to try to remove other prints from the spell.

"Ah ha," Annabeth hummed in amusement as the white glow became lighter, muttering under her breath, "Jugson's prints…Proudfoot's prints…your prints…and – no, wait. That can't be right." Her eyes narrowed.

"What? What isn't right?" Harry urged as the light of her wand dimmed away. He stared at her as she lifted the fabric to her white eyes, seeing them scanning over the piece like a gifted treasure.

"It seems you don't need the Trackers for this one, Chief Potter," she said. "Only materials like this can be sold in the highest marketing stores."

"Where?" Harry asked. "There's loads."

"Loads there is but only one place will ever sell robes make out of pure silk to the smallest stitch," Annabeth said. She dropped it on the tray as the light in her eyes blackened into an endless dark void that made Harry feel self-conscious. "You may want to check Charles Twan – the owner of Twilfitt and Tattings. Half of the clothes of the Ministry are made out of this same material from there so I cannot be mistaken. I recognize those finger prints anywhere but the odd thing is that there also seems to be another set of prints within them. I cannot recognize who's it is though."

Harry nodded. He remembered hearing about the shop one time from Draco when he and his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, showed their distaste towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He had never been there to avoid any conflict with some of the high class magical beings that go there but he had heard that is where the pure-blood mostly go to for new robes or to get theirs fitted.

"Thank you," Harry said.

"Anytime." Annabeth then frowned and looked at Harry directly in the eye with such strong emotion that nearly knocked him flat by the force of it. "Just please make sure you capture the bastard that did this to Proudfoot and when you catch him, let me see him."

Harry frowned. Suspects are not allowed to be known until there is concrete evidence and are not to be seen until trial. But the way how she stared at him made it hard for him to want to decline, convincing him for the latter. It reminded him of the one fierce look that Ginny had given to him during the Battle of Hogwarts. It was pleading, determined, and worried. He only ever saw that from Ginny, Hermione, and Molly whenever he was stuck in danger. So he nodded subconsciously and she smiled in relief.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome." Harry took out his wand and then produced a silver stag Patronus, the sight making Annabeth suck in a breath as she watched it turn to its Harry. She was not quite used to seeing such mastery to high level magic being performed within the Ministry. "Grumps, I need you to send Fryer and Clarke to Twilfitt and Tattings immediately. We got a lead."

Wisps whirled around the silver stag, magically recording Harry's voice, before it trotted around the room, bouncing off the walls as its form merged into an orb of light with each jump. Then it was seen zooming through the windows of the office, faint silver seen trailing behind.

Harry glanced back at an awestricken Annabeth, giving her a quick nod and a confirming smile, before he took the fabric piece then he disapparated with a loud crack that echoed in the silence of the office.

* * *

Harry never understood what made Twilfitt and Tattings different from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The robes all looked the same but they were just made out of another material and the owner of the shop was just another suspect of Harry's search. It was treated the same as any other store, the structure did not hold another type of uniqueness from the other stores, and in the end what is bought will end in tatters like any other robe. The one thing Harry could picture opposite is the fact that the main customers are usually pure-bloods. He does not understand how it got such a reputation.

It did not take long for Marcus Cooper and John Fryer to come to the store where Harry had been scoping out from a bench he was sitting on in front of the store. As soon as he saw the mixture of highlighted honey brown in blonde roots and midnight blue forms appear in front of him, he rose up from the bench and treaded forward, knowing that they would follow him wordlessly. They had worked with him for seven years that his commands were an instinct for them now.

Some of the wizards and witches walking by would glance at the three of them as they went into the store, whispering to their friend or relative. Harry doubted he would not see his appearance show up in the new edition of the Daily Prophet once the gossip circulated through the streets. The store was no entirely full but there were a couple of customers going through racks of robes and gowns. In the counter, there is a man with ginger hair, not red enough to match with Ron's flaming brightness, but enough be considered the same color, and he was as pale as the Christmas snow of December. He was looking at an article of The Quibbler.

Harry immediately approached the content man with Marcus and John stepping behind closely, their hands itching towards the waist of their pants where their wands are normally hidden beneath the belts.

"Excuse me, sir?" said Harry, his voice instantly gaining the man's attention. "Are you Charles Twan?"

"Who's asking?" the man asked rudely, tossing the magazine to the side and squaring his shoulders. His change in stance itched Harry to keep his hand close to his sleeve but he managed to keep a calm face.

Harry shook his arm, referring to the dark red armband on his upper arm. "The Auror Department is. I'm Chief Potter and I'd like to borrow your time to ask you a couple of questions."

Charles exhaled deeply. "Alright then."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Now we came across with a material that can only be found here in your shop. Silk." Harry reached inside his coat to take out the fabric piece and dropped it on the countertop in front of Charles. "Your fingerprints were all over it."

"Of course it has my prints all over it," Charles sputtered. "I handle the clothes here. I fix them to fit the customer's size and also fix some holes they rip through. It's my job."

Harry narrowed his eyes. He was not enjoying the way how the man was reacting towards him. The way how his face seemed to him showed the signs of the guilty; there was a slight twitch on the corners of his lips, the pupils in his dark brown eyes can be seen dilated, and his mouth was parted a little as he breathed rapidly. He could be mistaking him to have asthma but that seemed highly unlikely.

"Do you always remember the faces of those you sell to?" Harry asked, keeping his eyes darting all over Charles for any other body language. He can see his shoulders rise up a bit at his words and then he looked towards his chest, noticing it fall and rise frequently. Two signs.

"Over thousands of wizards and witches around the globe come here. I don't remember all their faces," Charles answered as he scratched his nose and his eyes shifted to the right for a second. Another sign.

"Ollivander always remembers the face of his customers," Harry pointed out. "And he's been working there for decades before you."

Charles blinked. Harry counted it to be three times. Another sign.

"I see," Charles blinked. "Well not everyone can be a professional with memory."

"Not even with names?" Harry added. "You can't remember the name of the last person you sold to recently? Or perhaps months before?"

"Nope. Not one. I just sell and get the money. Nothing but business."

"Is that so?" Harry sighed. He pulled out his wand from within his sleeve, the sight making Charles to stutter and twitch anxiously, and that made Harry even more suspicious of him. "Sir, you do know that it is illegal to lie to the law, right?"

"I'm not lying!" Charles said strongly. Harry can see his dominating leg move back. Another sign.

"No, you are," Harry retorted as he pointed his wand towards Charles. He can see the wands of his officers drawn from the corner of his eyes but he kept his gaze ahead. "I'm going to need you to come with me."

And then, in a blink of an eye, Charles had taken out a wand from behind the counter and a large blast shot out towards Harry's direction, making him and the other Aurors to leap separately. The blast had come in contact with the display window, making the glass to shatter into miniscule pieces and the innocence walking by to be flown off their feet. Screams and shrieks were heard screeching in terror while there were gasps of shock and yells of demands. Parts of wood had fallen, robes that were shredded into rips were seen scattered about, clothing racks were tipped over, and mannequins were blown to bits. A crowd could be seen forming at the fiery window to see the commotion that had taken place.

Harry grunted as he shoved a block of wood off of him and slowly pushed himself onto his feet, feeling his back crack in protest. His shoulders cringed and the nape of his neck gave an unbearable pain as he moved. Rolling his shoulders, he glanced around; Marcus was leaning using a stable rack for support, a long gash seen bleeding on his temple along with a few stiches over his face, and John was leaning against counter, craning his neck and with a swollen lip. Harry instantly noticed that Charles was gone from his spot behind there and quickly looked around the shop, his eyes darting from every inch frantically.

A couple of gasps from the window are what made Harry whirl around; he spotted a speck of ginger hopping over the glass shards before it disappeared with a blink. Harry did not hesitate to run after the sight, rolling over the window while ignoring the exasperated breaths of the bystanders and witness nearby, before he broke out into a sprint down the same path where he saw Charles go. He would let his officers recover from their recent injuries until they are ready to move again and he knows that he is pushing the limit of his sored body but he knew if he did so then he would not be able to have another opportunity such as this lead again in another month or so. He cannot wait any longer to capture the rest of the remaining fugitives; he needed to end this search.

Charles had not gotten very far; Harry can see a blur of red trampling through the crowds like a truck could through a traffic of cars, his voice heard shouting at those who stood in his way, and the speed of his legs were not very quick with Harry's. He is thankful that physical health was part of his job description and that all those years of suffering in training had paid off. Sometimes Charles would glance back at Harry and then pushed a witch or wizard to the ground in an attempt to slow down Harry but he would jump over them and continue chasing the foul man.

"Move!" Harry shouted as he hopped over another fallen wizard and then pointed his wand straight as he yelled, " _Stupefy!_ " and then a blue light was being shot towards Charles direction.

" _Protego!_ "

Harry had to duck his head as his spell bounced back towards him and he can hear it crash into a vendor's cart he had passed by. More screams and shrills casted over Harry's ears. Harry was too focused on Charles' form that he did not see had he tumbled more people on his way that he nearly tripped over them as he sprinted.

" _Crucio!_ " Charles shouted as he pointed his wand over his shoulder and a streak of red was seen streaking back. Harry had managed to make it ricochet upward with a flick of his own wand so that the curse would not hit any of the others around them.

"Enough of this, Charles!" Harry called out. "Either way, you're arrested!"

" _Confringo!_ "

Harry saw that he did not have a chance to cast the Shield Charm and ducked towards the ground, rolling beneath the spell as it zoomed past over him. The spell had hit the entrance to Flourish and Blotts, causing the door to explode into splinters and formed an archway of fire that made it seem like it was the entryway to Hell. Papers and hard pieces flew out into the air, some hitting the witches who were standing by and they screamed in fear. Harry can imagine how horribly Hermione would have reacted if she saw her favorite bookstore being blown into.

As soon as Harry was able to be back on his feet, he was going to keep following Charles when he heard him yell, " _Colloshoo!_ " and then he felt his ankles ache when he tried to use his feet, the bend pinching as it bended slightly. Harry tried to move his feet but they refused to cooperate with him but he can feel them attempt to break away from the ground by how they wiggled by the heel. Harry was about to actually undo the laces of his shoes when he heard Charles' scattering feet descending from him and, without thinking, he shouted out, " _Deprimo!_ " and watched as one of Charles' feet disappear through the cobblestone under the pressure of his weight. He cringed a bit when he heard a crack of bones but he shrugged it off and began to quickly undo the laces of his shoes.

When Harry was able to step out of his shoes, he saw that Charles had managed to pull his leg out of the hole and was seen limping away. He can see some of the witnesses were hesitating to intervene for his assistance but he was glad they chose not to in the end because the last time he had gotten help from another, they ended up staying in St. Mungo's. He knew he did not have to really sprint this time seeing that Charles was someone immobile so he just skipped into a light job, his wand readied as he got nearer to him. He felt ridiculous to be seen walking in just his black socks.

"Enough Charles," he growled once he was close to him, seeing him continue to try to escape from him. "Just calmly come with me."

His words seem to set off Charles; he had whirled around on his good leg and had pointed his wand towards Harry, a spell already heard pronouncing on the tip of his tongue. Harry was already prepared to counter the spell when he saw another blur of red come into the scene then a familiar voice heard shouting out, " _Expelliarmus!"_ and Charles' wand was seen flicking out of his grasp. The wand fell to the side in twirls until it landed in a hand – a large hand.

"Wh-"

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Harry recited quickly.

The spell hit Charles; his arms snapped to his sides and his legs were brought together as he fell backwards with a loud thud. Harry hurried to him, his wand still pointing at him. He formed a grin as footsteps were coming to his side and he looked up to see Ron also keeping his wand on his Charles, his other hand gripping on the confiscated one.

"Thanks Ron," he said gratefully.

"No problem," Ron shrugged with a grin. "Saw you run past the shop and I thought you could use some help. Can't believe he got you with the Stickfast Hex though."

"It was unexpected," Harry said somewhat defensively. Then he looked down at a glowering Charles and shook his head. "This could have been prevented if you just cooperated Mr. Twan. If that's even your name."

"Blow me, Potter!"

"Gross," Ron muttered in disgusted.

Harry rolled his eyes before he focused on his wand as he recited, " _Finite Incantatem!_ " and watched as Charles' appearance reverted back to its anticipated form; his flaming hair had darkened and shrunk, his strong structured features softened into a pallid, doughy face, his dark eyes became tiny, and his high cheekbones disappeared, making his face look all pig-like. His whole body became lumpy and squat.

Harry gasped. "Amycus Carrow!"

"Potter!" Amycus said mockingly with a wheezy giggle.

Ron groaned and grumbled incoherent words while rolling his eyes. He was never fond of the irritating sound and Harry could not blame him. He had thought that this infamous Death Eater had been imprisoned to Azkaban after the war nineteen years ago and he never tried to search for traces towards him because of that.

But seeing Amycus Carrow in the flesh, caught in a Body-Bind Spell, with a leering grin and prideful eyes, Harry could see he was wrong. He just cannot help but wonder how was Amycus able to escape from the Ravenclaw Tower he had been tied to when he had lost his wand to McGonagall.

* * *

 **A:N:** I'd like to thank a great friend of mine for making the cover art for my story! I appreciate it so much. It completes the plot with its artwork. Thank you my love!

 **Stupefy (Stunning Spell):** _renders a victim unconscious and halts moving objects_

 **Protego (Shield Charm):** _create a magical barrier to deflect physical entities and spells, in order to protect a certain person or area._

 **Crucio (Cruciatus Curse):** _When cast successfully the curse inflicts excruciating pain on the victim._

 **Confringo (Blasting Curse):** _causes anything that the spell comes into contact with to explode. This curse can be very dangerous and even deadly, if not used responsibly._

 **Colloshoo (Stickfast Hex):** _used to make the target's shoes stick to the ground._

 **Deprimo:** _which blasts holes downwards in things; it is strong enough to shatter the floor of an entire room in a matter of seconds._

 **Expelliarmus** **(Disarming Spell):** _was a defensive charm which forced the victim to release whatever they were holding at the time_

 **Petrificus Totalus (Full Body-Bind Curse):** _is a curse that paralyses the opponent._

 **Please Review!**


	10. Breadcrumbs

**A:N:** I don't own Happy Potter, the locations and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned in it.

I just want to say a quick "thank you" to you all for supporting me in this story. Honestly. I did not think it would get this far but it has and it's thanks to you all. I will continue to try my hardest to reach your expectations for you to keep enjoying it.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _There's a song we know_

 _If you listen close_

 _It will always be_

 _As it always was_

 _It always was, it always was_

 _Elemental sound_

 _Running underneath it all_

\- To The Wonder; Aqualung ft. Kina Grannis

* * *

 _"When you see her, everything changes. All of a sudden, it's not gravity holding you to the planet. It's her. Nothing else matters. You would do anything and be anything for her."_

\- Jacob Black; Eclipse

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Breadcrumbs**

Harry could feel his eyes hurting as they watched his hands move across the piece of parchment with the quill, the feather fluttering with his movements. He had his coat slung over the back of his chair, his hair was disheveled from the many times he ran his fingers through it, and he was barefoot. The only light in the room is the dim lantern he has on his desk.

It had been four hours since he had brought Amycus in under his custody and he can see remember how the afternoon turned out; flashes from shuttering cameras as photographers took pictures of him binding Amycus' hands together, loud voices of reporters trying to outdo the other as they yelled out their questions to him, the cries of small children, the yells of the feared adults, and then when he came into the Ministry with Amycus, everything went chaotic. He remembered seeing the shocked faces, his Aurors needing to come from the AD to prevent any of the members from assaulting on Amycus, Kingsley coming to put everything in order again, and then he had to lock up Amycus in Azkaban.

He had to give orders to his Aurors to stop any employees from any of the news company from entering the premises or to send out notices to all departments that if they were to leak out information on the process of his arrest with Amycus then they will be charged for supporting the press. He did not want to give the conflict any more attention but he needed to be cautious at every angle possible because he, like everyone else, is befuddled at the sudden return of the famous Death Eater who was assumed to have been rotting in Azkaban for the last nineteen years.

Currently, he was signing warrants and applications involving Amycus' custody. He had to take care of some complaints from the community and several hate mails of other members of the Ministry for his 'lack of organization'. He had to place wards around the department to stop any of those outside from interrupting him in his work. The many shifts of the day were over for the others but he had chosen to stay behind to not come across from those who now hate him and, although unreasonable, he was not angered by their hostility towards him. He had spent years hunting down these murderers worldwide and one happened to be under his nose the entire time in Polyjuice Potion. He was beginning to question his abilities as Head Auror.

Then a knock on his door startled him enough to drop his quill. He peered up at the father clock next to his window and saw that it read to be two-fifty in the morning – he did not know that time had flown past him so quickly. Everyone had gotten home many hours ago and Ginny must be wondering where he is but she must figure he is at the Ministry. He wondered who would be insane as him to still be here; he rose up to his feet and made his way towards to door with one hand gripping on the handle of his wand then slowly pulls it open.

He was shocked to see Hermione standing there with her coat on and her purse on her shoulder. She had a sheepish smile and her eyes were a little tired but still held an awake glint.

"Hey, I saw your light was on," she said before he could open his mouth. "Thought I'd come and see how things are."

Harry opened his mouth but no words seem to come out. Then he closed it. He shook his head and held the door open for her to step inside.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked. "Won't Ron wonder where you are?"

"He knows I was staying late today," she answered casually. "I just finished some paperwork. I wanted to see if you were okay."

Harry scratched his cheek while walking back to his desk with one hand gripping on his hip as he let out an exhausted sigh. "Er, it's alright. Just been busy signing some warrants and finishing up some last minute reports before I sign out." He took the quill and placed it in the inkpot. "Um, how'd you get in? I had wards charmed all over."

Hermione smirked. "Like wards can keep me out."

"Ah yes," Harry chuckled. "I forgot you are _the_ Hermione Granger. You probably invented a counter-spell stronger than the wards."

"As flattering it is to be praised of my abilities," Hermione grinned. "No, I didn't invent a spell. The wards just weren't that strong enough to hold off a basic counter-spell. So I'm guessing you' weren't trying to keep _everyone_ away."

Harry matched her grin. He could always trust her to look beneath of his actions. He used his wand to flick all of the parchments in files and then placing them in the cabinets before he went to take his coat from his chair.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, her tone suddenly worrisome. He turned around as he slipped his coat on his shoulders to see her eyes soft and concern whilst she stared at him with a vibe of uncertainty.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Hermione tried again. "I heard what's going on – the Ministry won't shut up about it. As soon as I heard about the hate mail and the arrest notices, I needed to make sure you were okay. I would have come sooner but I had an appointment with Twinky."

"How is she?"

"She's doing fine," Hermione said. "Dr. Wayne did a good job. She's not so scared of my wand anymore so there's that. She told me a lot of new things on the night Rowle killed his parents."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "What did she say?"

Hermione perched herself on the armrest of the couches in front of his desk and placed her purse on her lap, the strap still slung around her shoulder.

"I was planning to tell you tomorrow after you got some sleep," she said. "But since we're here – Twinky said she remembers seeing Rowle there with Voldemort and several other Death Eaters. She told me their names and I looked them up and some of them are dead. I felt like she was still too scared to tell me everything so I used to Visualization Charm on her."

"And what happened?" Harry urged.

"When I saw her memories that night, I saw that Voldemort was telling Rowle to kill his parents to prove his loyalty to him. Twinky was going to inform the Ministry about it when Alecto caught him and that's when Voldemort came up with the idea to use the Imperius Curse on Twinky."

"And the rest is history," Harry murmured. Then he had a realization. "Wait, Alecto? That's Amycus' sister, right?"

"Yes."

Harry scratched his rough jaw, knitting his eyebrows together, as he paced in the room, his feet thumping against the floorboards. He could hear them echoing inside the silence of the department but he did not pay complete attention to the sound but the words that he had heard Hermione say. It was too much of a coincidence that the sibling of his suspect is seen in a charm of a victim in a murder case but he found it to be beneficial to them in their situations to both of them.

"If Alecto was there then that means so was Amycus – those two are never separated," Harry said. "If Amycus was there then I can get him to confess on what really happened to Rowle – whether he can tell if he was under the Imperius Curse or not – and if it comes out positive then we could use him as a witness in court."

"But Harry, I doubt Amycus will do it freely," Hermione retorted.

Harry snapped his fingers. "True. But maybe I can make him agree to do it without knowing he is."

Hermione looked at him strangely. Harry went to the cabinet to pull out a file and then brought out a blank parchment.

"The AD has a small secret on how we deal with criminals who won't do things without a wager with Kingsley's consent," Harry started to explain, handing the parchment to Hermione. "It's a Bewitched Contract – whatever deal we need we write it here but the trick is the one who signs it only sees their terms and demands on it. Or whatever promise is given to the receiver is seen on it. But in reality-"

"They're signing in your terms," Hermione finished with an impressed smile and her eyes twinkled in delight. "If you can get him to confess about Rowle and sign that contract then we got Rowle! Harry, that's brilliant! _You're brilliant!_ "

She leapt from the chair and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Harry felt heat rise up from his cheek and travel down to his neck, feeling the pulse of his throat accelerating against her arms. He tried not to make it seem obvious how he was reacting to the same affectionate ways she always does on him for years. He returned an awkward one- arm hug around her waist, hesitant to place his hands on her back, suddenly finding it difficult for him to make the decision all because she was the wife of his best friend.

Hermione pulled back, her hands on his shoulders, and her smile more radiant to Harry. He could have sworn that his were glazed over by her shine.

"If this works then the case can already be considered closed!" she said.

"Let's not set ur hopes on just Amycus," Harry warned. "It could go the other way. So keep on working with Twinky."

"I will," Hermione nodded. She handed him the parchment and he went around his desk to place it there as he sat down on his chair. "How come I never heard of this Bewitched Contract? It could have come in handy."

"Nobody else but the AD knows about it," Harry said. "Kingsley and I came up with it back in 2005 when I caught this local wizard selling magical contrabands to Muggles. Like you, we had all the evidence against him but he had that one alibi that could ruin any plans, so Kingsley and I met up one time and the idea came up to me when I thought about the Great Hall back in Hogwarts – the bewitched ceiling – and we tried a few tests on experimented parchments until we came up with one exactly like this one. The only way for it to be activated is to say the incantation. Kingsley has loads of this stocked in his office and the AD is the only one who has a key to it."

"That's impressive," Hermione commented.

"I suppose," Harry laughed sheepishly. He went to reach for his quill when Hermione's hand suddenly grabbed onto his wrist and he glanced up at her stern face in confusion. Her brow was arched and he knew that he had no opened window to escape from the discussion that is about to take place.

"No," she simply said. "It's already late – you're going home."

"I just need to do this contract and then I'll leave," Harry shot back.

"No. You've been working in here since morning and you have not been out since lunch. You can work on the contract tomorrow morning when you're well-rested and fed. And don't give me that look, Harry Potter, I won't take no for an answer and nothing you say will persuade me," she added when she saw he was giving her a gentle look in his eyes and a slight pout – his begging face.

Harry tightened his lips to prevent a chuckle from escaping as she rambled on. He wondered how she is able to say all of that in one breath when he could hardly hold his breath for a minute. She does not change her habits whenever she takes control of things or demanding.

"But-"

"No buts," she interrupted. "Get up – lock your office – go home. Ginny and Lily are probably worried about you."

Harry sighed. He does not think there is no way of getting away from this argument. He complied to her words; putting the files away in cabinets and then leaving the office with her to shut it with a locking charm. Clacking of heels and thudding of shoes were the only thing heard between them as they made their way over to the lifts that were still operating. They enter together and Hermione pressed the button for the atrium level as Harry closed the door then held onto the handholds whilst the lift moved.

Harry tilted his head back as he breathed deeply. Hermione looked up at him with a frown.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" she asked, using her free hand to tentatively place it on his upper arm.

Harry shrugged. "I'm just…tired. Work has been so stressful lately and with reporters trying to get information about the crimes and people sending me mail because of Amycus – it's all a migraine. I had to take drastic measures to make sure nothing goes out of hand."

Hermione's frown deepens as she watched him take his glasses off to rub his hand over his faces and weave it through his crazed hair. She could see his eyes had heavy bags and his skin tone was slightly pale in color. He was not tan but he still held a light shade to his paleness. And the stubble seem to have grown more during the hours and there are gray areas mixed with the jet black, making him look older than usual.

After he put his glasses back on, Hermione slid her hand down his arm to entwine their fingers together in a gentle, comforting squeeze. Harry glanced down at her, then to her hands, and then back up to her.

"I'm okay," he said.

Hermione just smiled softly and gave him another squeeze. "How about we go to this great diner I know in Brighton. Call me biased but they make the best breakfast in London. And I can show you a special place I'd go to whenever things get too stressful."

"Where?"

"You'll see."

The lift halted; Harry opened the door for Hermione who linked their arms together and together they walked through the silent atrium. There was no sight of another witch or wizard as they all had gone home many hours ago along with the janitors and the security guards who had ended their shifts.

"Can you give me a hint?" Harry asked curiously.

"Nope," was all Hermione's reply.

"Do I know this 'special place'?"

"Nope."

"Should I be worried?"

Hermione raised her brow disapprovingly. "Yes, Harry. You should be worried that I'm taking you to a secret place where no one can hear or see you and hope that I don't end up holding an axe to your head," she said sarcastically

"That was very unnecessary," Harry said in mock hurt. "Have you been watching any horror films lately?"

"Only the good ones," Hermione grinned deviously. "Ever heard of _Scream?_ "

"Isn't that a Muggle film?" Harry asked. "I think I saw Dudley watch it one time with his chums. Not as scary as people say it was."

"Well, it's rare for anyone in the Muggle world to go through that kind of experience, Harry," Hermione pointed out. "Plus you live danger twenty-four-seven. Getting scared is no longer in your nature," she added jokingly with a playful nudge at his shoulder.

"And who says I'm not scared?" Harry laughed. "I'm risking my life at every second, 'Mione. I'm pretty sure that's something to be scared about."

"Could have fooled me."

They shared a round of laughter that reverberated off the dead air around them as they made their way into one of the empty grates. Harry was about take a handful of Floo powder but Hermione had taken his arm and pulled him with her as she lead them into the grate.

"Where we're going there is no fireplace," she told him.

"Oh okay."

He hooked his fingers onto her knuckles as she did the same to him and then he closed his eyes while he waited patiently to feel the sensation of him going through a tight tube. He took one breath only for it to be taken away as he felt himself disapparate with Hermione.

* * *

It felted in his mouth before he could chew. Soft and dissolving. The crunchiness and smoked flavor gave it a delicious taste as he ate it. And when he swallowed the remains, he felt himself drown in the waves of bliss. What was inside exactly? What made it addicting and wanting? He wished he had asked them for their recipe when he took his first bite back at the diner but he knew they would not reveal it to him. But as he examined the meal in his hands, scrambled in his bites and wrapped neatly, he was beginning to regret for not trying.

He shoved another inch in his mouth for a bite and closed his eyes as he concentrated on tasting every last particle. Soft, crumbling, smashing it to the roof of his mouth and spreading over his tongue. He couldn't resist himself from release a moan of approval.

"Harry?"

He opened his eyes to find Hermione studying him closely, her lips twitching as she fought a smile.

"Huh?" he said dumbly, not noticing a drop of mayonnaise dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Hermione giggled, raising her eyebrows in amusement, and then reached inside the paper bag and took out a napkin to gently wipe away the mayonnaise from Harry's mouth.

"Enjoying your scrambled eggs sandwich, I see," she said.

"Mhm," he hummed with a pleased smile before he dove in another bite of his sandwich in his mouth and chewed blissfully.

Hermione giggled as his response before she took a bite out of her burrito breakfast.

She had taken them to JB's American Diner in Brighton. According to what she told Harry, she used to live in East Sussex until the age of three and on the holidays she would come back to visit a relative. Her father, her grandfather, and she would come to the diner in the mornings to bring breakfast to the family because her mother and grandmother are not exactly excellent cooks – Harry knew where Hermione got that trait from – and the employees already recognized her from her visits.

Harry remembered how surprised he seemed at the warm welcoming and affectionate embraces given to Hermione from the chief, Larry Hughes. He felt like he was coming home for Christmas.

"Hermione? Little Hermione?" Larry had wondered when he had heard the tiny bell of the front door cling and ring. "Have my eyes deceived me?"

Hermione would laugh. "Hello Larry. Long time no see."

Harry recalled seeing Larry to be a large man with a round belly and face. If it was Christmas, Harry could picture him dressing up as Santa Claus. He was a jolly fellow; seeing a face he had not spoken to for a long time and burying Hermione in a big hug that nearly engulfed her petite frame as he lifted her off her feet.

"I remember you were nothing but a midget!" Larry had laughed, instantly recollecting memories he had shared with the witch before she had moved away as he began to cook Hermione's favorite and his order. Hermione would tell him alter times throughout her years in Hogwarts – apparently she had gone to the Storm King School in New York on a scholarship studying psychology and biochemistry.

"You're married?" Larry had seen the diamond glittering off from the simple wedding band in Hermione's ring finger and he instantly assumed that Harry was her husband but Hermione quickly explained their relationship. They had met in a play and he had introduced her to Ron who studied with him for criminal justice.

Hermione must have thought hard about her story of her disappearance years ago.

Harry looked ahead of them as he ate. The building seemed like an Arabian and a Morocco tower built together, making it seem like an artistic structure of an historical landmark and behind him, was a large smooth rock with a glass ceiling where one can see the reflection of the faint moon. The area was abandoned of people except for Harry and Hermione, their bodies seen in the illumination of the light posts on.

"So what is this place?" Harry asked.

"The Peter Harrison Planetarium," Hermione answered quickly. "My mother used to take me here. She used to be an astronomer before she became a dentist. She loved to take me here to teach me star constellations."

"That's fantastic," Harry said.

Hermione smiled slightly. "I come here a lot sometimes when I can't sleep or when I'm trying to analyze a case or when everything is too stressful for me to even think or when Gerald and Ron are driving me mad," she explained passively. Then she let out a small chuckle as she shook her head. "I come up here a lot actually now that I think about it."

Harry grinned as he crumpled up the wrapper into a crinkled ball and shoved it in the paper bag between them.

"So you go to the university to relieve stress and you do the same over here?" he guessed.

"No I go to the university to forget about my problems while over here I relax away the stress and learn about space," Hermione corrected, copying Harry's actions, and then crossing one leg over the other as she folded her arms.

"Why am I not surprised to take your time to learn something new," Harry chuckled.

"It helped me with Astronomy," Hermione said wittily.

"As if you needed it."

Hermione lightly nudged him with her elbow with a quick laugh and Harry smiled at her. He was surprised to be able to easily forget about his troubles of the Ministry by listening to stories of Hermione's past. He found them to be quite fascinating to be the reasons why Hermione is who she is right now and he felt awful to not have asked her about her life whenever he had the chance. She knew everything about him before he knew and he has never learned that much about her until recently. He felt like he was getting to know her all over again.

Harry swept around the area again. "So why are we here for?"

"I'm glad you asked," Hermione said. She pushed herself onto her feet and held one hand for him. He accepted it and rose up to his feet, using the other hand to dust the dirt off his trousers. Then she used her wand to perform _Incendio_ on the paper bag, watching it burn into crispy ashes for a minute, before she used _Evanesco_ to make it disappear in thin air.

Harry remembered of their first lesson of Transfiguration class in fifth class when Professor McGonagall had taught them the Vanishing Spell and Hermione was the only one who was able to do properly. It had taken him a while to be able to do the spell as well.

Harry did not say a word as Hermione dragged him towards the entrance of the planetarium where he could see an elderly man walking out of and the sound of jiggling keys as he turned towards the door.

"Hello Noah," Hermione greeted politely.

The elder man whirled at her voice, his withering face stretched at the raise of his brow and his mouth opened in disbelief, once he saw Hermione.

"If it isn't Carol's Cinnamon Buns! I haven't seen you in ages!" he cheered as he wobbled over to Hermione with his arms held wide and then engulfed her in a heartwarming embrace, gently rocking them to the sides. Harry noticed that he was nearly two feet shorter than Hermione unlike Larry from the diner who could tower her effortlessly.

"It's great to see you," Hermione chuckled as she pulled apart from Noah, her hands on his elbows.

Noah turned to Harry. "And who's this? Your husband I suppose?"

"No," Hermione replied immediately, shaking her head vigorously. "This is my best friend, Harry Potter. We studied together."

Harry held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Likewise," Noah nodded as he accepted Harry's hand and his hands widen approvingly while they shook hands. "Ooh, nice firm there, son!"

"Cheers," Harry laughed heartily.

"So what can I do for you?" Noah asked the two.

"Well," Hermione trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile and nodding her head towards the planetarium.

Noah instantly caught on and frowned. "Oh, love, I can't. I'm about to lock it up."

"Please. I always come here all the time – I know how to operate it – I always lock up before I leave – I just have another person with me. Please, Noah," Hermione cooed with a childish pout that had Harry chuckling under his breath. He found it adorable to be able to see the hidden side of her that she does not let the world see often.

Noah sighed and scratched his head. "Do you need the keys this time or are you going to pick the lock like always?"

"Like always."

"Alright," Noah said gruffly. "Just make sure everything is locked up before you leave."

"Oh, thank you, Noah!" said Hermione gratefully, pulled the old man in a loving embrace, causing him to laugh at her reaction and returning it wholeheartedly, patting her back lightly. When they broke apart, he patted her head like a grandparent would do to a child even though he was quite shorter than her.

"Just be gone before five," Noah warned. "That's when the next guard comes."

"Will do."

Noah gave Hermione a light pat on her arm and Harry a kind smile before he wobbled away from the two, the keys hanging from his pants loop jiggling with every step.

Hermione seized Harry's hand and walked him into the building. Inside he found them surrounded by informative posters about planetariums taped to the walls, flat screen televisions positioned around the room, all of them off, the desks were vacant of people, and the lights were shut down. The light of the moon is the only thing that gaze a hazy sight in the building and showed their silhouettes.

A swish of air and the sound of click were heard behind him and he knew that Hermione had used the Locking Charm on the front doors. Now he knew why Noah would ask her if she needed the keys.

"This way," Hermione said, taking his hand again and leading him down the corridor, where there is a set of double doors. She tentatively pushed it open before she pulled him inside with her, their visions suddenly becoming pitch black, and then she abruptly lets go of his hand.

"Hermione?" Harry called out.

" _Lumos_ ," she whispered, her voice heard a few feet ahead of him, and an orb of light is seen shining off from the wand. Harry was now glad that the room was dark enough for her to not notice the unexpected blush creeping on his cheeks as he stared at her eyes, drawn into the color of amber brightened by the spell, and the tiny faint freckles of her nose can be seen definite in the light. He was not sure it was the magic, but he felt hypnotized.

He watched as she went down a path of an aisle, the outline of her ringlets seen becoming tinier as the distance became great between them, and then she was seen moving upwards. She stepped farther until she stopped and, despite how far she was from him, he can see she had the same look of concentration she was famous for as her eyes moved around. He did not understand what she could possibly be doing but he did not have the heart to interrupt her on her task because he honestly did want to see as much as he could in her small world. He rarely got to see her like this nowadays.

Then the room began to lighten up in a shadowy faze; he can now see Hermione's figure standing behind a control table on a stage and she had flickered her wand off. He also noticed that she was staring upwards with an excited smile and he followed his gaze only to be left breathless. The planetarium was now a globe of space all around; the endless stars sparkled around Mercury and Venus. Jupiter looked like a decorated egg for Easter, the rings of Saturn were outstanding, the clear view of Uranus was unbelievable, and the heavy blue of Neptune has Harry thinking that the deep waters of Earth seem pale in color. So far the stars don't seem do enchanting alone anymore.

"Harry! Come!"

Harry snapped out of his gaze on the digital space and looked over at Hermione to see her eagerly gesturing him towards her, the wide smile still intact. The fantastic vibe she had radiating off of her – the same one she always has whenever she got to learn something new or to ace a difficulty – made Harry feel quite giddy that he couldn't stop himself from sprinting towards her and then hopping onto the stage. He straightened himself, twirling around as he stared up in amazement, still processing how surreal and magical a projector could make reality with a button.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Hermione asked in elation.

"It's amazing," Harry awed. He turned to see Hermione standing next to him, her attention as attracted as his is towards the space. "How do you find places like this?"

"I don't," she said honestly. "It's usually my parents. I just come around often."

Harry smirked. "Well, it's a bloody good thing you do. Otherwise, I wouldn't know this place even exists!"

Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes. Then she turned to him and took him by the sleeve of his arm. "Come – lay down with me," she suggested, already tugging him down as she lowered herself onto the hard surface of the stage.

Harry was grinning stupidly as he stared at her rest onto her back, seeing her curls fan out around her like a halo glow. He did not object; he used his hands as pillows as he laid beside her, breathing calmly and his heart beating in normal rhythm. He could see the room painted in a magenta color. The multicolor of blue fading in purple then becoming pink just to darken into black was spellbinding.

"Most don't see it but there is magic in the Muggle world," Hermione murmured. "And it isn't because of us – they make it in their own way. And it's just as dangerous as a spell or a potion. One wrong move could take away a life or a thousand."

"I never thought of it that way," Harry admitted. "Growing up with _actual_ magic, everything seemed so-"

"Dull?" Hermione guessed.

"Sort of," Harry said. "But when you say it like that – and seeing this – I can see it now. Magic is everywhere. Just…different."

Hermione suddenly erupted into a laughing fit, nearly startling Harry into sitting upright and staring down at her incredulously as she howled in giggles.

"What? What's so funny?" he demanded confusingly, although her titters were infectious enough to make him grin.

"Nothing," she snickered. "It's just…th-that's…the same thing my m-mother said the first time she b-brought me here!"

"You're kidding," he stated doubtfully.

"No! I'm serious! Talk about déjà vu!"

"Well, that's ironic."

Hermione's cackling fizzled out, leaving her on the floor with a heaving chest and wiping away the growing tears stuck beneath her eyelids.

"Are you done?" he asked, bemused. He could imagine her looking the way she does now on a grassy field during spring season while wearing a simple white sundress. He wondered if she ever looked like that whenever she spent times with Ron at the Burrow and he almost let his face fall at that thought. He felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach, his mouth grow dry, and his throat constricted around his vocal cords. _Of course he did, you twit! This is Hermione – Ron's wife!_ Harry thought bitterly as he laid on his back again and tried to distract himself with the space above.

"Yes, I'm done," she replied with a tiny giggle. "Sorry, I needed that."

"It's alright," he reassured her.

They stayed in silence after that, watching the full-dome show continue in a 3D amazement. Hermione looked more animated than Harry was a few minutes ago and a child in Christmas morning. The thought from before extinguished the bubbly and combustible excitement he had be blazing a few minutes ago by the ghastly and heinous guilt that is now looming over him for picturing Hermione that way.

 _What is wrong with me?_ He groaned inwardly. He peered at Hermione's spirited face from the corner of his eye and wondered, _I'm acting like some mad man. Getting jealous over nothing, acting like a lovesick fourteen year old. This is Hermione for Merlin's sake! I've known her for years and now I'm suddenly acting like she's – I don't know. What the bloody hell is wrong with me? Idiot, idiot, idiot._

He saw Hermione shift a bit to bend one knee upward and quickly moved his gaze back up to the ceiling again.

"This is relaxing," he said to avoid himself from thinking any other inappropriate thoughts about her, trying to keep the shake of his words unnoticed in his tone, and to break the silence that felt awkward now on his end.

"I know," she agreed matter-of-factly.

"So," he smirked deviously. " _Cinnamon Buns?_ "

Hermione just gave him a hit to the chest before crossing her arms as she blushed heavily, grumbling.

Harry snickered. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that."

Hermione glared at him. He stuck his tongue out at her. Rolling her eyes, she glanced back up at the ceiling as she released a sigh.

"I said it's a nickname my mum used to call me when I was little," she mumbled. "I was obsessed with cinnamon buns that I practically started to smell like it. Apparently she called me that whenever she talked about me."

Harry chortled. Hermione gave him another glare.

"Shut up," she said.

Harry looked at her skeptically; Hermione's glared intensified.

"Shut. Up," she repeated in a dangerously low voice.

"Okay, okay," he surrendered, not really wanting to be caught in another one of her shrilling rambles again, and she seemed satisfied as she turned her eyes back to the ceiling. He found himself miserably captivated by her again; he cursed at himself for his mistake.

In that moment, Harry realized he has a choice right now. He could speak to Hermione about his inner complications towards her and hopefully she would be able to help him understand without things becoming stiff between them. She always seems to have an answer for everything when it comes to him even though he hardly takes them but he was willingly in this case. Or he could just keep quiet about everything like he has been doing and they could continue to being the best friends they are while he let himself dwell deeper in the dark about his newfound feelings for Hermione.

It was risky. They had agreed to not speak about it again for the sake of their marriages and their friendship but he desperately needed to know. And Hermione was an expert on emotions and hormones unlike him – he was still struggling to show feelings even after so long. She was open with what she feels, he was not but she is good on bringing them out for him. He had never gotten a problem in keeping his feelings hidden when he wanted them to be but Hermione would somehow point them out by just a glance of him.

No such thing as privacy for him.

Harry stared at Hermione a moment longer before he decided. He knows he might break everything between them but he would rather live life without constantly wondering.

"Have you ever looked at something and start to notice some things you didn't notice before? And then wonder why you're noticing it now?"

Hermione's head snapped at the sound of his voice. She stared at him as though she was startled yet she seemed inquisitive of his words. Harry hoped that he was looking at her in any sort of way to make her seem uncharacteristic.

After a long moment, she spoke, "If you're noticing it now then it because you already have. You're just focusing on it frequently to be able to see what you already saw. Everybody notices everything – it just takes them a while to realize what they saw."

Harry went speechless at her insight. He had expected her to give him a scientific fact or perhaps an obvious answer he was too blind to see but he had not expected something so deep or so meaningful.

Hermione noticed this and immediately looked away with a blush. "Oh, you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Harry said distractedly, staring at her newly. "I think I do."

Harry tried to not be over the top on his newfound realization in Hermione. He is grateful that she was able to help him once again without anything going odd but as he thought harder on how she was able to answer his question so easily, his high mood was instantly descending. The only reason why she was able to do so was because she had went through the same with Ron; she had noticed the traits about him and when she realized them, she had fallen for him. His surprise on how she knew had died in an instant.

He looked up numbly, an unordinary silence extending between them. So many emotions were running through him, so many things he wanted to say but did not know how. He had the primal urge to run away, run as fast as he could, to flee and escape from all that he was suddenly experiencing, all that is affecting him in more way than it ever should. However, he was frozen, unable to neither move or blink as he watch the planets swim through the sea of stars and blackness.

"Why ask that?" Hermione inquired.

Harry could not find the right words to explain it to her. How can one explain to their best friend, the wife of his other best friend, the mother of his niece and nephew, the aunt of his three children, and the godmother of his eldest son, that he was attracted to her? That did not come from the parenting book he bought twelve years ago.

"I just…noticed some things this year…" he spoke hesitantly, unsurely. "They're not that important so we can forget about it."

Hermione looked dubious. "Surely, it must be relevant if you're thinking about it. You know better than to try to hide from me, Harry. You can talk to me about whatever it is," she said.

Harry shook his head. "It's nothing."

Hermione sat upright and stared down at him with an arch brow. Harry's breath hitched as he took note that he found that incredibly sensual. How could he not have noticed that before? Or perhaps he did, he is just realizing it in a different light.

"Is it bad?"

"Sort of."

"Then you have to tell me."

"Hermione," Harry groaned sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "It's not life-threatening or anything. I just have a lot on my mind. It's about work," he quickly added when he saw that she still seemed unconvinced.

Hermione frowned. "You're not supposed to be thinking here. You're supposed to _relax._ Stop thinking about that bloody contract – you can do that in the morning."

"I know," Harry sighed. "I'm sorry." Then he grinned teasingly. "I guess your workaholic ways are rubbing off on me."

"If we were still in Hogwarts, I would have been pleased at this," she said haughtily. "But then I wouldn't have the chance to help you with your essays and such so I guess it's not all bad."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Only you."

Hermione smirked as she laid down on her back.

"Thank you by the way," Harry said appreciatively. "For taking me here, I mean. It helped a lot – I really needed it."

Hermione smiled at him dearly and reached for his hand, lightly rubbing her thumb over his knuckle while she held it tenderly. He returned the gesture half-heartily but nonetheless he was thankful. He knew he was being ridiculous for how he felt a second ago because he had no right to have a claim over her, but he couldn't help the overwhelming feelings of jealously that overcame him and clouded his judgment.

"You want to know the constellations?" Hermione asked kindly.

Harry nodded vigorously, wanting to steer away these irrevocably and rash emotions.

"Well, if you look closely, you can see Auriga…and Delphinus…and there's Draco – yes, there is a constellation named Draco…and there's Carina…ooh and there's Antlia!"

Needless to say, Harry learned more about the stars than he ever did in all those years in Astronomy Class.

* * *

Two hours later, Harry and Hermione had apparated back to their respective homes.

Harry quietly walked in the front door, careful to shut the door behind him with a soft click. It was dark and silent, his shame and the only palpable notions surrounding him. Shrugging the coat off his shoulders, he closed his eyes in relief to finally being home, turning around and resting his back against the cold wood of the door as he let out an extended sigh. Flashes of his time with Hermione flooded in his mind, bringing him back to feel her hand in his and the sound of her voice tingling in his ears as she spoke about the stars.

That was when he felt it; a pair of eyes was watching him through the darkness, presenting him the feel that he was not alone. He quickly took out his wand to cast the Wand-Lighting Charm, creating a glowing orb circulating around the foyer, and he was surprised to see Ginny standing across from him, leaning against the wall at the base of the stairs. She was propped up against the banister with her back against it, her arms crossed, her eyes cold yet worried as she stared, carefully appraising his appearance. She was wearing a robe over her nightgown.

The darkness made her seem like a sparking flame, the air around him thickening as a moment of intensity filtered in the time that ticked by.

"Ginny," he choked out, unable to hide the guilt from his voice and the shock from his face at finding her brightly awake. "What are you doing up at this time?"

Her eyes flickered briefly at the father clock before focusing on him again. "I should be asking you that," she said briskly. "Four in the morning? Four in the morning and you're coming home now? Where have you been?"

"I was doing some reports at work. And…I was with Hermione," he replied in a rush. He did not want to lie to her about his whereabouts. He already felt like he was lying to her about everything that has been happening. "I just came back from having breakfast with her," he admitted.

"Breakfast with Hermione? You spent a whole night with Hermione?" she asked incredulously, her voice increasing in volume as she took a few steps towards him and ran her fingers frustratingly through her hair. "You didn't come home like you usually do and you didn't have the audacity to even send me an owl or any clue to where you've gone. Lily wouldn't even go to bed until you came home!"

"I'm sorry," Harry said through a sigh. He couldn't look her in the eyes, couldn't stand to see the suspicion he'd surely find manifested there. "Aside from that, I don't see what I did wrong. It's not the first time I come home this late and Hermione is my alibi on where I've been. You can give her a ring if you like."

"It's not just that, Harry," Ginny hissed. "Last time I check, it doesn't take you two hours to finish a spot of breakfast. Also, you were with Hermione – a committed woman. It seems wrong on both of your parts!"

Knowing where she was going at, Harry rolled his eyes. "Please, Ginny. You make it sound like we were shagging. We just had an innocent breakfast and went to a planetarium-"

"A what?" she asked scathingly and Harry pursed his lips, knowing he had bit the nail on that one.

"Hermione took me to this planetarium that she used to go to," he explained. "She saw I was stressed over the case and took me there to relax. She needed it too since she was working on the Rowle-"

"Why couldn't you come to me?" Ginny pressed, voice raising more. "I could have done something to help you relax. Surely, better than a planetarium, whatever the bloody hell that is!"

Harry breathed deeply. "I know you're busy with your interviews and articles for the _Prophet_ because it's a rough season so I didn't say anything."

"And what about Hermione? Why couldn't she have gone to Ron if she's so stressed?"

Harry hadn't thought about that; why didn't Hermione go to Ron like he should have to Harry? Perhaps they were arguing again? Maybe she wanted to spend time with a friend? Or she must have been more worried over his well-being that she did not think about herself? He did not think to ask her about her reasons for the time being.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. He rubbed his fingers on his eyes beneath his glasses as he strode past her and began to make his way up the stairs. "Look, Ginny, it's been a long night and I really need some rest. I just want to shower and sleep."

"You wouldn't feel so restless if you had just come home," grumbled Ginny bitterly.

Harry halted in the middle of the staircase and turned to his wife with a tired expression. "Ginny, I told you I was sorry. Time just flew by before I realized it. What else do you want?"

Ginny just continued to stare at him stonily.

"Well?" Harry pressed on.

Ginny sighed and uncrossed her arms; Harry noticed she had an edition of the Daily Prophet in her hand. She unfolded it and held it open, flashing the front page to Harry with a scowl. He pointed his wand towards it, unable to see the letters in the dark, and then his eyes narrowed as he read the headlines of the front page. THE MINISTRY'S SCANDALOUS SECRETS. There was a heart-shaped picture of him and Hermione at Three Broomsticks with her reaching up to kiss him on the cheek, the loop of the moment never-ending.

"What the bloody hell?" Harry questioned scathingly as he descended down the stairs and snatched the newspaper from his wife's hands to scan over the article. He let out a growl when he saw that it was written by Rita Skeeter. It was not surprising but certainly irritating.

"Same reaction I had," Ginny retorted. "Care to explain?"

Harry was not paying attention to her. He was engrossed on the article in his hands.

 **The MINISTRY'S SCANDALOUS SECRETS**

By Rita Skeeter

 _The desirable and unattainable Head of the Auror Department, Harry Potter, seems to be much more criminal to the hearts of women than the dark wizards he captures. He has broken the hearts of his admirers when his relationship with former Holyhead Harpies Chaser, Ginny Potter, had been confirmed official and later married but it seems there is hope for a certain smitten witch. The Deputy of the Magical Law Enforcement and Muggle-born, Hermione Granger, has been seen to be rather close to Auror Potter nowadays. They have been recently seen enjoying a nice lunch at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade earlier today and were quite cozy in the booth. Many witnesses confirmed them to be acting more than friendly like a couple of old chums should be. Like Auror Potter, Miss Granger is married to pure-blood Ronald Weasley, owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes but it seems like her taste in wizards seem to have gone high and richer as her eyes seem to have settled on the famously known wizard._

 _Inside sources say that Miss Granger is seen frequently visiting Auror Potter at his office and the both would be seen leaving the scene looking quite satisfied. Suspicious? No one knows what they speak about inside the office but one can imagine what goes on in there to make them seem so content with each other. It seems like the Rowle case isn't the only thing coming to a close too. It seems like Miss Granger's scandalous ways have not changed since the last time she had toyed with Auror Potter's affections in her Hogwarts years as she seemed to have gotten bored with her husband._

 _And it could be that she used persuasive charms on her assistants about her journey back into the Auror Potter's heart._

" _They're really just great friends," said Julie White, an employee of the Ministry and second assistant to Miss Granger. "The both of them are on the same case and they work really well together. They're like two peas in a pod. It's somewhat reasonable that their friendship could be mistaken as something romantic."_

 _Reasonable indeed but one could not just be mistaken to be romantically involved through 'reasons' but with what is seen and it seems that Miss Granger may be getting Auror Potter in a dilemma if she continues to pursue him. In the meantime, Ginny Potter and Ron Weasley's well-wishers hope that their children will not suffer to the possible diversity once the truth comes out._

Harry's hands shook as he tightened his grip on the newspaper, crimpling the pages into wrinkles and some heard tearing a bit. He was enraged for many reasons; Rita Skeeter, the inside source who revealed about his personal life, and at Julie for even speaking to anyone from the newspaper about his relationship with Hermione. She should know better than to do so.

"You have to tell me what's going on between you two," Ginny demanded forcefully. "I've been hearing stories about this at the _Prophet_ and I don't like it one bit. I had to learn from Rogue about this."

"There's nothing," he responded curtly. "And you should know better than believe this sort of rubbish that slag Rita writes. You know she despises Hermione the most. It's nothing but gormless and pathetic stories of a slow news day."

Ginny's eyes widen slightly but for other reasons not similar to his.

"Whether Rita has something against darling Hermione or not, it doesn't change the fact that the _Prophet_ has evidence about how close you two seem," she said heatedly. "Just like now – you came home at _four in the morning_ from some place with Hermione. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Rita is actually right about Hermione for once."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What are you suggesting?"

"Ever since her father was admitted to the hospital, she seems to cling onto you like you're her lifeline of some sort," Ginny explained, her voice exasperated but gentler. "She takes up all of your time and it's not because of the case. Now you go to lunch with her when before you used to go to my work during your lunch to see me – if you're stressed, Hermione decided to take you all across London when she could have sent you home to _your family_ – if she's stressed, she does the same when she could go home to _her family_. Even during suppers, she seems to have your full attention. And now you're coming home late from spending time with her – sooner or later that will be a new addition to your routine with her. It's like you have some sort of tunnel vision of everything and everyone but her."

Harry considered this for a moment before he shook his head as he thickly said, "What do you expect? You just said it yourself – her father is in the hospital. I'm just being there for her like a friend is supposed to be."

"What if I told you I highly doubt it isn't just that?"

"Then I would be right disappointed in you, Ginny," he replied, fuming. Harry could not believe of her stubbornness over the situation and how incredibly accusing she is towards him. "To think that way about your own sister-in-law. The same woman who helped you raise James when I was caught up with Auror training and was later pregnant together with you. You grew up together. And you're just going to quickly suspect her to be some sort of scarlet woman all because a sleazy reporter wrote an erroneous article. I can't believe that you would even think like that about someone in _our family!_ "

"Can you blame me, Harry!" Ginny cried, her face blazing red up to the tip of her ears. "No matter how good of friends we all are, you're still my husband – Hermione is still Ron's wife – you can't just come and go with her like that as you please! I care about her as much as you do – I am devastated to what is happening to her father! I understand that she needs her friends closer than ever but not to be close to the point where a newspaper makes it seem like you're having an affair with her! And if you can't see it in my perspective then you're thick as ever!"

Harry stared at her then, looking directly in her eyes that were now becoming reddish from unformed tears, and he knew he messed up. Just like he did to Hermione, he was not considering how his actions were affecting Ginny – he did not ask her about her feelings on his decisions. He had not known that he was hurting her effectively lately because she never spoke about it but he also knew that it was what they have gotten accustomed to doing whenever they have heated moments like this. They would pretend everything was fine afterwards because it was easier to live that way than to have to end up sour when they go to sleep.

After a long moment of impasse, Ginny shook her head and swallowed. "I'm going to go and check on Lily. Make sure our squabbling hasn't woken her up. You go ahead and sleep." Her voice was low and dejected. She sounded defeated. She stepped away from him and made her way up to the second floor before Harry could call out to her.

Harry turned to ascend the stairs without another word or a glance, feeling himself grow heavy as he took one step after the other. He was absent-minded to where he was walking to that he did not notice he had passed by the open door to Lily's bedroom or the croaked whispers coming from Ginny. He figures they must have woken Lily from her slumber with their yells and cries. He wanted to go in to comfort his daughter but Ginny was in there and with the tension between them, he wanted to be separated from her for a while.

Harry made it to his bedroom a moment later before he stripped himself of his work clothes, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, and he dropped himself on the unmade bed with a disgruntled grunt. His head was pounding, his chest was hurting. He hated having fights with Ginny. They are not as strong as the banters between Ron and Hermione but it still bothered him to end a day in bad terms with someone he loved. He still loved Ginny despite everything that is happening with Hermione – he had not forgotten why he married her in the first place. If he didn't then he wouldn't be feeling guilty and awful of their recent discussion.

Sighing, Harry took off his glasses, placing them on their respective spots on the nightstands, and then clutched onto his pillow as he buried his face deep into the cushion, hoping that he could be swallowed whole by the fluffiness. He wondered why Ginny acted so rash about Hermione though; it was not the first time when there would be an article about him being 'romantically involved' with another woman and she had kept in mind that wild rumors would run amuck due to his title so she did not react so heavily in the past. What does a white lie about him and Hermione have to make her so impetuous.

Then he thought back to Hermione. He wondered if Ron was giving her the same troubles about the article at this moment. The phone would be ringing if he was; he is Hermione's alibi like she is to him and Ron would like to have proof of that. Or maybe Ron could be asleep when she returned home. She would be a lucky witch if she was able to have more peaceful hours before the storm comes. He did not get to have the calm.

Then his mind drifted to what she said in the planetarium: _If you're noticing it now then it because you already have._

He had noticed many aspects of Hermione's brilliance throughout the years – she always showed it. But the many details he is seeing on her, had he noticed them before? He already knew that she was a pretty girl when they were younger and as they grew, she developed into the beautiful woman she is now. But it was the little things about her that seem to caught his eye now – the many smiles – the different sparkles in her eyes – the kinds of laughter she has – and then there is her history behind Hogwarts. He had learned that she was like the girl-next-door type who was also a daddy's girl and a mother's little flower. Her background made her seem normal. She did not seem like the know-it-all witch he had befriended and had went on a journey to death with. The mask of her blood status had been taken off momentarily for him to be able to see the real Hermione Granger.

That was when he realized he has already saw Hermione for who she is. She never hid who she truly was – she never changed for the game. She just never spoke about what made her who she is. She came into his life as who she was and she is still the same as she was with newer traits. He had already noticed her, he was just relishing what he saw in her throughout the years – he understood what she meant now. For years, he had seen, heard, and said the things that Hermione has done or would plan to do because of who she is and he was greatly appreciative of her efforts in everything. Sometimes he would find himself wondering why someone like her would put up with him even on the times he had treated her horribly and her intentions were for the best of his safety. He knew it was because she cared but the deepness and the stretches she went through were beyond than he had ever seen any friend do for another.

He was truly lucky.

With a breath, Harry closed his eyes as he thought about Hermione. Even in spirit, she was able to still keep him calm enough to mentally relax and allow him to physically sleep the stress away. He pictured him back at the planetarium with her beside him, holding his hand, and pointing out on constellation after another with energy of ardor and passion. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume, feel the tickling sensation of her curly hair strands brushing against his ear, see the expression of childlike wonder on her face towards the holographic stars, and hear the excessive passion leaking out of her voice as she spoke

He felt like he never left.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, the first sense he could identify is warmth and familiarity. Aware of some corner of his consciousness that he was dreaming, he looked around the new scenery that his head is now taking place in. The walls were made out of creaking wood that seemed more than two years old, the ceiling has pheasants and hams hanging from hooks, and there was a fireplace with a copper kettle squealing loudly as a streak of steam shot out. There was a mokeskin coat and a crossbow resting on a bed, untouched and unmoved. Beside it was an over-sized black boarhound dog sleeping soundly, his head hanging slightly over the edge as streaks of his saliva dropped to the floor like white slime.

He instantly knew he was at Hagrid's hut.

The knob of the door rattled and then the hinges squeak as it swung open. Entering the hut was Rubeus Hagrid, holding a plate with tiny crumbs that he later placed on a table nearby and then went to the fireplace, where he put on hand mittens to take the kettle in his hand. He had left the door open and Harry could hear a series of children's laughter not too far away; he followed the sound, hearing silverware clinging as Hagrid searched for teacups through the many items of his home. A light breeze flew in through the door but Harry could not feel it.

"Ron! Be careful!" a recognizable shrill was heard scold. "Stay away from the fire or you'll get burned!"

When Harry stepped out into the opening, he felt a wave of nostalgia hit him as he watched the scene play before him; it was the younger version of him, Ron, and Hermione sitting on a log nearby a roaring campfire, all of them clad in their pajamas. He remembered this moment to take place during his second year after the Leaving Feast and the three of them had agreed to come with Hagrid to have a private celebration on him being freed from Azkaban. He and Hermione were sitting while Ron was demonstrating the adventure he and Harry had on their encounter with Aragog within the Forbidden Forest.

These were the simple days – as simple as his previous years could be for Harry.

"…And then my dad's car came out of nowhere," Ron kept speaking in exasperation. "We were lucky to get in on time – those spiders were scary. Bloody creatures nearly nicked my leg!"

Hermione gawked. "I can't believe you two went through all of that. It sounds far worse than told."

"You have no idea," Ron said flatly, promptly slumping on the ground in front of his best friend and leaned back on his hands as he stretched out his legs.

Hermione turned to Harry worriedly. "And are you sure you're feeling alright? Not feeling drowsy at all? Maybe we should take you to Madam Pomfrey to take a look just to be sure-"

"Hermione, I'm fine," Harry said, pulling back the sleeve of his nightshirt and holding out his unblemished skin. "See? Nothing. Completely healed."

"Are you positive you don't feel indifferent?" Hermione asked again.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Quit smothering him. He's breathing so I think that's counts as 'fine'."

"Well, _excuse me_ for wanting to make sure his health is in good condition," Hermione shot back. "Being stabbed by a basilisk fang is quite fatal, mind you. I'd like to see you go through the same and try to not worry."

"No thanks." Ron said. "Bad enough I had to follow the bloody spiders." He shuddered.

Harry and Hermione laughed. Older Harry stood behind them with a bitter smile, wishing that he was one of them again and be able to live the life of no worrying over bills, children, jobs, or capturing dark magical beings. These carefree times and free from the chains of the adult world were tempting for him to just drop everything just to experience the life of a child again. But then he thought of James, Albus, and Lily, and he knew he would not be able to trade them for a day. They are one of the many things he has now that are way too precious to his heart.

Younger Harry looked at Hermione with curious eyes, his brows furrowed. "What about you, 'Mione? Feeling anything odd?"

Hermione smiled at his concern and shook her head. "Not a thing," she said honestly. "I feel like I woke up from a thousand-year sleep. Refreshed and well."

"That's good," Harry nodded with a grin.

"I got a question though." Hermione shifted her weight to be able to cross her legs. "What happened to Lockhart? You took him with you to the Chambers, right?"

Ron snorted. "Him? The bloke tried to Obliviate us with my wand. Luckily it backfired on him and he erased his own memories. I don't think it would have mattered – he was resigning either way. Good riddance, too."

"Unbelievable," Hermione murmured distastefully, cupping her jaw with her palm as she leaned her elbow against her thigh.

"Bet you regret fancying him now, aren't ya?" Ron asked teasingly with a smug smirk.

Hermione's face became pale pink, the color traveling throughout to the roots of her bushy hair and down on her neck. She had a scowl on her face towards Ron, who was staring at her egotistically with the same smirk, and Harry chuckling under his breath as the silence among the two. Older Harry remembered that was the moment he noticed that the tension between his best friends had begun and he had thought that it was because Hermione was struggling to accept to being wrong for the first time to Ron, not because feelings were submerging from one of the two.

Then Hagrid appeared at the doorstep of his room, his hands still covered by the mittens.

"Can one 'o ye'r help me wit' the biscuits?" he asked politely with a grin surrounded by the jungle-mess of his unreeling beard. "I seem t'er have made one t'er many."

"I'll go," Ron said, already rising up to his feet and a hungered glint was seen shining off the rims of his blue eyes. Older Harry knew even then that Ron had chosen to go so he could be the first to taste some of Hagrid's soon-to-be famous coco-filled cookies. The skip in his step was confirmation of his greed for the dessert.

Older Harry turned back to his younger self and Hermione as soon as Ron was out of sight. He walked over to the campfire to sit on a small boulder a few feet away from where they are and watched them as they stared at the fire. He could see Hermione fidgeting with the hem of her nightshirt, playing with the last button nervously as she nibbled on her lip and sometimes she would peer at Younger Harry from the corner of her eye. He seemed oblivious to her glances, too engrossed on the flickering fire and crackling wood.

Hermione pursed her lips before she let out a breath and turned to Harry. "Thank you."

Harry snapped out of his trance to look at her. "What?"

"For everything," she clarified. "You solved it and you saved me. Thank you."

"I couldn't have done it without you," Harry said. "You did most of the work – I just followed your steps. I should be thanking you."

Hermione smiled shyly and blushed deeper as she looked down at her feet.

Harry saw this and continued, "You saved all the Muggle-borns and Ginny. They could all be dead right now but because of you - they're alive." He smiled at her even though she was not looking at him. "You're a hero, Hermione."

"That's too much," she pointed out, her voice low and almost inaudible. Older Harry smiled slightly at her adorable display of shyness, finding it to be quite intriguing at how noticeable her blush was and how timid she would become over a compliment. He wondered if she would still act like this the next time he praised her or if she has grown into it.

"It's true."

"Honestly," she sighed. "Thanks."

"No problem," Harry murmured. He twiddled with his thumbs, his emeralds eyes looking like crystals as he stared back at the fire. "Just…make sure that…promise me that won't happen again. Seeing you like that was not something I look forward to."

Hermione glanced at him with a strange look in her eyes, almost like she was particularly shocked to hear about his concerns over her well-being. Younger Harry could see her from the corner and the edges of his lips twitched in a slight smile while Older Harry was curious as to why she would be dubious of him worried of her. If she knew how he felt when he saw her laying on the hospital bed like a carved ice stone replica of herself, she would probably be in tears of how highly affective it was to him, how even the thought of her was painful to him, and appreciative of him for worker harder to bring life back into her. He was looking forward to seeing a more alive Hermione than a frozen one.

"I promise," Hermione said after a minute of quietness passed over them.

"Thank you."

"I heard you, you know," she suddenly said, the random change in topic had him whirling his head back to her. "You and Ron. I'd hear you two talking to me like I wasn't petrified. It was comforting because it did get lonely. I even heard you reading a paragraph from _Hogwarts: A History_ to me. You were reading about how Muggle technology is not allowed at Hogwarts. I'm sure the basilisk enjoyed hearing that in the pipes," she added with a laugh.

"I'm surprised you caught that," Harry said sheepishly, scratching his head. "I barely remember what I read from that. I was reading it because…well…it was the closest thing from you. You always say random facts from that book."

Hermione nudged him with her elbow. "Hey! Those random facts happen to be quite usual!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry mumbled with a lopsided grin as he combed his hair with his fingers.

"Harry?" She placed a tentative hand on his arm and she was looking at him with a hopeful expression on her face, her eyes seeming wider in anticipation. "When you found the parchment in my hand, I remember you saying you wished I was there because you needed me. Is that true?"

"Yes," he responded smoothly and casually. His eyes darted to her, instantly locking in a cosmic explosion of heavy green with deep brown, and Older Harry can see Hermione seemed shaken by the connected of their eyes. "I meant it. Like I said, we wouldn't have solved it if it weren't for you."

"Oh," was all she said, her tone sounded deflated and disappointment. She slipped her hand off his arm and tangled her fingers together.

"That," he kept on and she instantly perked at this. "And because I need my best friend. I don't think nobody knows me well like you do," he smiled at her softly and gave her a friendly wink.

Hermione laughed.

As he watched, Older Harry could see his younger self seeming to be in a merry mood while watching Hermione giggling cutely and he could see himself transfixed momentarily before he lowered his gaze down to his feet. His eyes widened in shock. The way how he was smiling pleasantly, how his eyes seemed distant in a trance, and the uplifting atmosphere emerging between them He had noticed the bubbly and charming side from Hermione but he had not realized he did.

 _Bloody hell._ Harry thought in disbelief as he watched Hermione inch closer to Younger Harry and looped an arm around his whilst she laid her head on the blade of the shoulder. Younger Harry did not seem startled by this; he looked even more content. He recalled that it was a touch of relief to him to know that she was awake and moving. _I understand what Hermione meant._

Just then, Ron had stepped into view by the entrance of the hut and he was wearing Hagrid's oversized mittens that seem to have been tied to the wrist for them to not slip off.

"Biscuits are done!" he announced loudly that the nearby trees of the Forbidden Forest seem to shake at the volume.

Hermione was quick to pull apart from Harry and was already on her feet as she straightened her shirt, two patches of bright red seen glowing from within her cheeks. Younger Harry had taken his time to get on his feet and was on his way to the hut with Hermione followed him after she dusted away the small twig bits from her pajama pants.

"I hope you didn't eat them all, Ron," Harry said as he walked up the small stoned steps and trailed after the ginger into the hut. Hermione giggled behind him as they disappeared in the cozy humble abode of their lovable half-giant.

Older Harry stayed where he sat as he watched the door being pushed closed by Hermione, hearing Ron wailing, "I didn't!" to his defense before all sounds were completely shut out with a simple click.

He was still trying to register the fact that Hermione's words were true. He had noticed her before and he did not realize it until now how much he saw in her.

* * *

Harry woke up with a gasp and wretched upright on his bed. The sudden movement has caused another to happen beside him and he glanced to the side to see the fire tresses of his wife cascading all over her back as she shifted around for a minute before she slumped into the mattress, clutch the pillow close to her chest. He had not known how long it had been since she joined him for slumber.

There was a dull gray light in the room. Harry glanced, disoriented, at the clock on the bedside table. It was six-forty-seven in the morning. He groaned as he kicked the bed sheets off him and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet tingling a little when they touched the floor. He was too uncomfortable, too distracted to fall asleep again. He hunched forward as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub away the grogginess. He only had two hours left to sleep before he had to get ready for work but, somehow, even though his eyes stung and his body demanded to be rested, he could not find the strength to because he had shock coursing through his veins like electricity, the circuits of his veins brought to life.

 _Just a dream_ , he told himself. _It was only a dream._

He took a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair, and then jumped again when realization struck him like a lightning bolt. More images of the dream flashed in his mind. His breathing became uneven and his blood pumped into his heart quickly, causing it to drum against the inside of his chest. The bashfulness – the honesty – the charm – the security of her arms draped around his – the content feeling of her just being by his side – the purity of her promise to him – the trust she had in him – the disbelief of how deep he cared for her – the happiness she felt when she saw how important she was to him – and most of all, that heavy impact of their eyes locking with such ferocity that could easily knock anyone's feet in their presence. It was impossible to think that the whirlwind of emotions and invisibility was coming from two twelve year olds (technically one twelve year old and a thirteen year old because Hermione aged one year ahead of him and Ron).

 _It was just a dream,_ Harry reminded. _It was only a dream_.

It may have been only a dream – a dream of a memory – but it actually meant a lot more to him than he ever expected it to. It wasn't like those thousand dreams he had of Voldemort or of the night his parents died or the visions he would get from Voldemort through his eyes – it actually frightened him more. Never had he paid such close attention to a dream of his since the war ended but for some unfathomable reason he could not shake off the ones he's been having of Hermione. An urge of wanting to relieve those memories, of wanting to be in the position of the Harry in his dreams, leaves him shaken in fear.

He glanced back at his wife over his shoulder. She was still sleeping soundly as he wondered. He thought back at the times he had dreams about her, some beyond the lines of friendship and above the lines of Ron's approval, but he would find himself in distraught whenever he had them because he felt like he could never have her due to her then relationship with Dean Thomas. He was aware that he had fallen for her at the time which is why he never dwelled on his dreams about them so much but the fact of him fawning over his best friend's youngest sister was still shocking. Although pleasant but still frightening.

He questioned why he was going through the same with Hermione. He could not possibly start having feelings for her, could he? It would seem ridiculous and a bit cliché for him to suddenly start feeling something more for his long-term best friend. Those kinds of relationship only happen in the movies he had watched with Lily and Ginny by force. Yet Hermione and Ron were best friends before the feelings between them grew so he figured it could be possible but why should it happen to him? He had many chances to be with Hermione and even if he did pursue to be with her it did not mean she would have felt the same way as him and then things would have been awkward between them. Still, he could not help wondering.

If they did get together would they have lasted? Would their actions towards the other have changed just by a change in their status? Would he have been able to even picture Hermione as the mother of his children like he did with Ginny? What if they ended up hurting each other and resenting the other?

So many questions, so little answers.

But as he thought about how Hermione's relationship with her children is, he thought about it. What if she was the mother of his current children? From what Ron told him on how things were between her and Rose did not impress Harry but then the way he sees how she interacts with Hugo would have him think twice. She was lovable and overprotective yet stern and firm with the young boy. She had been the same way with Rose when she was younger before there was a rift between them.

He could see himself coming home from work and spotting Hermione gently rocking in one of the chairs of the family room, quietly singing a lullaby to a bundle held in her arms like it was a normal part of his day. He had gotten used to see it when she helped him and Ginny raise James.

It was a nice sight for him to see her smiling softly in peace while gazing down lovingly at the tiny baby wrapped in a blanket in her arms, sometimes gently stroking the specks of brown away from the large striking green emerald twins, and he would be standing behind her while he marveled at the small miracle he created.

"Oh Merlin, no…" Harry gasped. He realized that his thought process has automatically pegged Hermione as the mother of a child of his without him noticing. But what scared him the most was that he had done the same thing with Ginny when he came to accept he was in love with her. He would imagine random moments of his future with her out of his control and he would grow to find the idea tempting to want it, to need it, but now he was doing the same with Hermione and he was scared of his wits as he asked himself a fearful question:

 _Am I falling in love with Hermione?_

* * *

 **Incendio (Fire-Making Spell):** _is a charm and a form of Conjuration that can be used to conjure a jet of orange and red flame, thereby setting things alight._

 **Evanesco (Vanishing Spell):** _is a Transfiguration spell used to vanish both animate and inanimate objects "into non-being, which is to say, everything"._

 **Please Review!**


	11. Bewitched Contract

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters and locations used in it, or the songs mentioned in it.

Sorry for the long wait. I've been busy trying moving to a new house and with jobs. I hope it hasn't been too long.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

 _I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care_

 _But it's so cold and I don't know where_

 _I brought you daffodils in a pretty string_

 _But they won't flower like they did last spring_

 _And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright_

 _I'm just so tired to share my nights_

 _I wanna cry and I wanna love_

 _But all my tears have been used up_

\- Another Love; Tom Odell

* * *

 _"I think you can either be friends with someone or in love with them. I don't think you can be both."_

\- Stefan Salvatore; The Vampire Diaries

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Bewitched Promises**

Harry was not looking forward to coming to work the following morning. He had not fallen asleep since that dream he had and he was a bit grumpy throughout his usual morning routine. He hardly paid attention to Lily at breakfast as she told him what kind of school project she would be presenting but he was able to respond at the right moments. She seemed to not want to talk about what happened the night before and he'd like to keep it that way for a while. He knows she overheard but she was patient until he decides to talk to her about it. He was glad to know she had gotten that from him.

Ginny did not talk to him but she still acted like they did not argue a few hours earlier. A part of him was alright to not be straightforward with the night but the other part of him loathes the fact that they left everything unresolved. He knew sooner or later that they will continue it again only it will be when Lily is not around. He did not mind wanting to fix the drift wedged between them but he was dreading for the moment to come because he knew that the calm before the storm will not last if one of them is vague to the other and he knew the one will be him.

Ginny had to leave earlier for work and he had to drive Lily to school. Ginny had gave her a kiss on the forehead and a wish for good luck but she never paid any attention to Harry. No kiss, no goodbye. She just left promptly without a glance. Harry knew he was going to have to get used to it for the meantime until they speak again. He knew she was very upset with him if she is giving him the silent treatment and he honestly cannot find it in him to be angry about it. He had spent the remaining silence of the morning thinking about his fight with her; he understood that what she said what true. He had been spending more time with Hermione than before and because of their previous living arrangements, Ginny had gotten used to seeing his face frequently throughout the day, but now he was taking any time of his day to see his best friend than his wife.

He knew he is the guilty party on this one.

* * *

The day was frigid as the last days of summer slowly morphed into the fall season. People were starting to sport heavier coats and baggier pants. Many coffee shops were flooded with greedy customers. Aromas of hot chocolates filled the atmosphere of Muggle London. Bus stops were deprived of daily passengers and the streets were crowded with more cars, honking loudly and rude words being exchanged. It was a typical day in London.

The school was not very far from Godric's Hollow and Harry did not mind the small traffic on the way there because he would get to see some of the rebuilt buildings that had been attacked on during the war, loving to see a reminder that the worst was truly over. He was glad he was the driver; he had the window sit automatically. The windows were rolled down and he tried to enjoy as much breeze from the morning, knowing that Lily was warmed up in her thick sweater.

Lily was playing with the radio while Harry drove, shaking her head in disapproval. Harry noticed this and smiled amusingly as he watched her continue to change stations from the corner of his eye.

"Is something wrong, princess?" he asked, his mood bright.

Lily groaned. "There's no good music on," she huffed, crossing her arms. "I hate morning stations."

"Check the glove box," he insisted, grinning. "I'm sure there are a couple of CD's in there."

Lily immediately complied eagerly and soon found a small CD case. She began to go through the sorts of genres on one page after another. Half of them belonged to James and Albus but Harry was willing to allow Lily to go through them to keep her entertained on the long drive to school. He also wanted to know what kind of music they have nowadays because the parental side of him wanted to make sure they were listening to songs appropriate to their ages. Whether they have caught the habit of growing up with old school music like Hermione did, some were still too strong for James and Albus to even know about. He would love to be able to have the horrid "talk" with his two boys as soon as they hit puberty.

Lily had pulled out a record and was already popping it into the radio slot. Harry was anxious; she did not tell him what album it was. As soon as the first few notes started to play, Lily let out a squeal and turned up the volume until it hurts Harry's ears then she leaned back as she sang along with the lyrics. Harry quickly rolled up the windows to avoid disturbing the peace of other pedestrians or drivers and then turned on the heater on low.

Harry concentrated very carefully to the music, his foot twitching along with the rhythm of the lyrics blasting through the speakers, and the rapid-beat tempo of the music was drumming into his ears. The way how the many instruments were being played gave Harry a cheerful spring, forcing a smile to stretch on his face, and bob his head along with the pace. A variety can be heard being played; the drums, the banjo, the piano, the accordion, the fiddle, the trombone, the tenor saxophone, the flute, and the bass. There was more than one vocalist heard singing and Harry wondered where are the voices like that nowadays. He could not understand but the song sounded oddly familiar.

"Who is this?" he asked Lily, who was swaying to the beat in the passenger's seat and shaking her head, her hair swishing along with her movements. It made him tap on the steering wheel with the rhythm.

Lily stopped moving to look at her father with a wide grin. "It's Come On Eileen by Dexy's Midnight Runners," she answered happily, her spirits as bright as the song. "It came out in 1982."

Impressed, Harry raised his eyebrows. "And you know this how?"

"Albus," she said with a shrug. "He always plays this for Christmas New Years."

Harry knitted his eyebrows together as he tilted his head to one side, focusing harder on the music overtaking his ears. He remembered it clearly now; James would have this song playing in the family room after everyone would open their presents and the kids would be seen dancing in the center of ripped wrapping paper and opened boxes or when they would go out in the backyard to play a few games of Quidditch. It was another thing that became a holiday tradition between the two merged families.

"What are we going to do for Christmas this year?" Lily asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I haven't really talked to Ron or Hermione about that yet. Maybe we'll go to your grandparent's this year."

Lily frowned. "Isn't grandpa still in the hospital?"

"Yes," he sighed. He had forgotten that he should not have mentioned that around either of the kids. "But don't worry, I'm sure we'll see him for Christmas," he said with a grimace. He did not like to make promises that he could consider guaranteed especially when it is someone's life on the line and he was not sure whether Mr. Granger was recovering from his unknown disease.

"I hope so," Lily murmured. "I miss him, daddy."

"I know, sweetie. I miss him too."

He let it drop. His eyes became a darker shade of green as he glanced at his daughter worriedly. He slowed the car down slightly once he saw a row of cars ahead of him, and then he screeched to a stop when he was close to see the streetlight glow brightly red.

"Have you thought about what you want for this Christmas?" he asked as an attempt to prevent the conversation from going south over the mentioning of one of her favored grandparents.

Lily shook her head. "No. Well, actually…" she paused for a moment, humming lightly, drumming her fingers against her knees, and pursing her lips. She reached for the radio to turn down the volume a bit. "I just want to be with everybody this year. With James, Albus, Hugo, Victoire, Fred, Roxanne, Molly, Lucy, Dominique, Louis – everybody!"

Harry was amused at how she was able to say all of that in one breath.

"And I want the new Nintendo NX," she added cheekily.

Harry grinned. "You sure that's all you want? That's quite a big gift."

"That's what I want," Lily confirmed.

"You'll need to write the letter to Santa," he pointed out. "And I'll make sure he gets it."

The light flashed green; Harry didn't hesitate to quickly accelerate from the moment the cars began to disperse separately in front of him and he turned on Auson St. Other cars that were about to switch on the same lane had honked at him angrily because he had apparently cut them off but he knew that was an excuse to not seem idiotic for not looking.

"Will he be able to grant my wish?" Lily questioned curiously.

"I'm sure he will," Harry said. "He granted all your other Christmas wishes before. I'm sure he'll try to make this one happen. Remember, Santa Clause is one of the most powerful wizards in the world, honey. First and only one to be able to travel the world by night."

"I thought you were the most powerful wizard in the world," Lily pointed out with the innocent naiveté of a nine-year-old.

"No, besides me," Harry chortled. He enjoyed to see his children acknowledge him for an accomplishment he never thought he would work hard for in his life and that they held that respect for him as well as a father. He preferred theirs over the millions of the wizarding world.

"Does that mean Santa can beat you in a duel?"

"No, he can beat me in a race to send presents around the world in one night and being jolly – he's the best wizard at that. But I can beat him in a duel – that's my specialty."

"But you are jolly, daddy. You're always jolly when you're drinking butterbeer in Christmas."

Harry laughed, thinking, _Nice to know that she can't tell what Firewhiskey looks like._

St. Paul's Cathedral School was considered to be the White House of London due to its uncanny resemblance and often mistaken as a daycare with the many children seen in the large field playing various games of soccer and cricket. The uniforms reminded Harry a bit of the ones from Hogwarts only it did not come with robes, just a formal dress shirt, sweater, trousers, skirts, and shoes. The genders were separated by color; blue for boys and white for girls. He actually liked the idea because it made it easier to spot Lily among the crowd even though her red hair stood out the most.

A few minutes later, Harry saw the entrance to the school parking lot and he slowed down as he went into the line of cars. After he reached the gate guard, he showed him his license and ID before he proceeded forward to drive up to the curb of the drop-off area. He undid his seatbelt and climbed out of the car to gather her bag from the backseat but then, as Lily shut the door to her side, he froze on the spot at the scene he saw in front of him.

Standing a few feet by the entrance, talking to the headmaster of the school, Neil Chippington, and to woman with jet black hair and a petite form, was Hermione. Hugo was standing behind her with his arms crossed and was sending a scowl at the young boy behind the woman, who was sticking his tongue out and making rude gestures with his hands. Neither of the three adults have noticed as they were in what seems to be a deep conversation.

"Uh oh."

Harry glanced down at Lily, seeing that she had her Tangled backpack strapped to her shoulders, and she had an expectant look on her face as she watched, shaking her head.

"What's going on?" he asked curiously.

"Hugo got in a row with Jamie yesterday," Lily answered swiftly. "He's been bullying Hugo ever since he beat him in football. He's a sore loser, that one. And yesterday, he said something about Rose and that set Hugo off."

Harry stared at her. "You knew what was going on and you didn't say anything about it?"

"I did," Lily said quickly. "But Hugo always lied and got mad at me. He said I should mind my own business. We're not talking anymore."

 _Like father, like son._ Harry frowned and looked ahead to see Hugo and Jamie were awkwardly shaking hands in front of the three adults. Hermione had her brow arched dangerously so Harry knew that she had scolded him to behave better and Harry understood if Hugo complied wordlessly if he ever saw that. He had been on the receiving end of that look. That brow arch of hers was surprisingly terrifying; it meant many possibilities but one never knows what could happen.

He looked back down at his daughter to see her pouting sadly as she watched her cousin with downcast eyes. He lowered himself onto one knee and turned her to him by the shoulder. Her eyes seem brighter than normal and glistened a bit.

"I'm sure he'll come around, sweetie," Harry reassured comfortingly. "I can promise you that he didn't mean what he said to you. He was just upset. People say things they don't mean when they're sad or angry. Now that his problem with Jamie is over, I'm sure he'll apologize and everything will go back to normal between you two."

Lily sniffed. "Really?"

"Really," he nodded before he pulled her in his arms for a tight embrace, kissing her on the crown of her head as he stroked her hair and she laid her head on his shoulder with a light whimper. He knew she did not want to be in any bad terms with Hugo because he was the closest person she can have around as a sibling like she is to him. They complete the absence of their missing siblings and it helps them not yearn for their return often.

Harry pulled back, letting her lift her head, and gently rubbed his thumb over her eyes to wipe away the unshed tears.

"Now go with your chums, ok? I'm sure they're missing you," he said and she nodded. He gave a brief kiss to her forehead before he straightened himself and stepped back as she skipped away. He watched her for a moment as she made her way towards the entrance, seeing her short swish across her backpack, making sure that neither of the older students bumped into her as he knew that some can be abusive to the younger years with unnecessary reasons.

"Auntie!" she called out excitedly.

He was not expecting his daughter to head over to Hermione on her way to the entrance. He noticed that Hugo had already left, probably on his way to play more soccer with some of his other friends, and Jamie was also gone along with his mother and the headmaster. It seemed the conflict between Hugo and Jamie had been resolved.

"Lily Bear!" Hermione laughed as she caught her niece in her arms when she leapt into her and lifted her from the ground to spin her around, making the young girl to giggle pleasantly.

Harry smiled fondly, tilting his head slightly. He enjoyed being able to see the motherly side of Hermione whether it came from her children or his. It seemed like an inevitable nature of hers from the start and seeing it towards the younglings, he can see what others saw when she cared about him and Ron. Then Harry frowned when he caught himself admiring her. He had not come to terms that he might possibly be in love with Hermione – he found it too soon to tell over a couple of dreams.

He made his way over to the two as Hermione settled Lily down on her feet.

"Are you coming over for supper tomorrow?" Lily asked, hopeful. Harry can picture her ears lowered and a tail wagging like a puppy.

"Only if you're coming today," Hermione said.

Lily nodded vigorously. "We will!" She turned to her father. "We will, won't we, daddy?"

"Yes, we will," Harry grinned. It was impossible for him to not smile whenever he saw her act so enthusiastic. "But you need to behave until then."

"I will!"

Hermione laughed as she stroked the top of Lily's hair affectionately, combing her fingers through the luscious strands. Harry had to stop himself from thinking how perfectly normal it seems for his daughter and best friend to be in sync like she is with Ginny. It felt wrong to even have that kind of thought of a child of his with another woman who isn't her maternal mother but he was not sure if it was because he felt awful for Ginny or because Lily was not truly Hermione's daughter.

"Auntie? Is Hugo still mad at me?" Lily asked sadly.

Hermione frowned with a sigh. Harry figured that Hugo must have complained to her about Lily. She kneeled by her niece and gently placed her hands on her shoulders as she stared directly in her eyes with a shine of comfort.

"Don't worry about Hugo," she said. "You know how he is with his pride and all. Unfortunately, he inherited his father's emotional range of a teaspoon when he was in his age."

Harry had to hide his smile with the back of his hand as she said this. It was the same words she told Ron in their fifth year and to this day he still found it humorous because it was true. Sometimes he and Ron would tease Hermione about that comeback because she was rather sheepish to have said it without a thought. According to her, it came out beyond her control but they knew that she was just enjoying the moment of tease and laughter.

"But knowing that, he'll come apologizing before supper tonight," Hermione continued. "You're his best friend and he'll never want to lose you. So don't worry, ok?"

Lily gave her a watery smile as she nodded in understanding. She lunged forward to give Hermione a warm hug, which she returned with earnest and gave her a soft kiss on the temple as she stroked her back.

Then the school bell rang; all the kids were already moving towards the main entrance, chatting animatedly, and others were seen sprinting hastily as they had just arrived to the school. Lily pulls away from Hermione as she straightens up to her feet.

"Best get to class now," Harry said, nodding his head towards the flowing crowd.

Lily pouted but nodded before she turned and skipped her way towards the main entrance, glancing back at her father and aunt over her shoulder with a bright smile. Her figure was slowly disappearing within the crowd of older students but, through the gaps, Harry can see that she had reached her friends and was already engaged in a hyper conversation full of giggles and secrets as she trudged through the front door.

Harry looked at Hermione to see her starring after Lily's disappearing form with a pleased smile, her fingers gently stroking the hollow of her neck. He hadn't noticed that she was wearing the necklace he got for her birthday until he saw the glint shining off from the dim sunlight. He was also admiring how the chain was perfectly settled around the arc of her throat and how the otter-shaped pendent rested on her collarbone. He felt a sense of pride at this.

"Let's get going, Harry," Hermione said, turning to walk back to her car. He did not see the slick gray 99' BMW parked in front of his car until he saw her striding towards it.

Harry recalled Ron and Hermione struggling to pick an automobile suitable for their family but also to their liking. They settled in buying one for each when their pays were manageable. Ron always preferred to have the style of the latest generation like the Volvo S80 because he wanted to be able to speed through the narrow streets of London. However, Hermione fancies the idea of owning a classical car like the ones her parents used to own but still manage to stay in the era. Personally, Harry liked both styles of transportation but he'd rather to have Hermione's car because Ron's had several breakdowns that needed to be taken to the mechanics and Harry did not want to be the cause of heavy traffic and Hermione has own the same car for over nine years and she had not gotten one problems except whenever she needed to change its oil.

Apart from that, Harry would go with the classics.

Harry was disappointed by her lack of communication with him and it also worried him a bit. Normally whenever Hermione does not talk much it meant that she has many thoughts running through her mind or she is sad or she had another disagreement with Ron. He can only hope that it has nothing to do with the last option. He decided to follow her to their car without a word, thinking that perhaps she would speak to him when she wanted to.

It seemed like an impossible task for him to stop fumbling with the handle of the door and slide inside the car, knowing that Hermione is in the car in front of him. His hand would not stop trembling under his dismay as he shoved the key in the ignition and he heard Hermione's car purr to life. His foot had swiftly threw the car in reverse, almost hitting the Toyota Corolla behind him, but luckily he was able to stomp on the brake in time. He took a deep breath before he pulled out of the drop-out zone with greater success and passed Hermione's car. He stared straight ahead as he reached the exit but from a peripheral peek, he could have sworn he saw Hermione laughing.

Driving down the road, Harry tried to think hard about the case and not at the sounds of an engine roaring trailing behind him. He did not drive slowly, not wanting to cause a path of destruction, but he certainly did not go any faster than he normally does. He did use a bit of magic to be able to pass the red lights.

When they reached a restaurant, they parked nearby an alleyway. Harry kept his head down as he climbed out his car and casted a Locking Charm on it. His cheeks burned red when he heard Hermione let out a giggle as the clacking of her heels came closer to him, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets while he walked down the alley self-consciously. Hermione never stopped giggling. She sounded like she was trying not to but was failing unashamedly.

"Not funny," he mumbled.

"I didn't say anything," she said.

"Your laughter says otherwise," he pointed out, and she choked out a snicker. He glared at her but it only made her sniggering increase and rolls her eyes while she puts her hand in the crook of his arm.

"Are you sure you got that license fairly, Harry?" she asked teasingly. "Or was a bit of the Confundus Charm used?"

"I feel insulted by this," Harry replied in false hurt, and pouted. "I can't believe my own best friend thinks so little on my abilities as a Muggle."

Hermione laughed. "Don't act so soft, Mister Potter or then I'll begin to question your abilities as Head Auror. Sensitivity is not required in your job description."

"You're in a teasing mood today, aren't you?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "A bit too cheery, may I add."

Hermione matched his strange expression. "What? I can't have my good days?"

"No, no, you can," he said quickly, noting the edge in her tone. "It's just you…I thought…never mind," he sighed, shaking his head.

"No, you were going to say something," she said. "Tell me."

Harry shrugged. "There's nothing."

Sighing, Hermione frowned. "Harry, tell me."

"No."

"Don't be stubborn – just tell me!"

"I don't want to."

"Harry!"

" _Hermione!_ " Harry said in the same childish, whining voice she had used as an attempt to persuade him into confessing, and then he let out a laugh when he saw the impassive face she had on. He loved these moments when he can get her riled so easily and knowing she isn't exactly bothered by his tantalizing acts but actually amused. He knew how to not push the boundaries of her limited sense of humor.

Hermione rolled her eyes. " _Haha_. Funny."

"You're bipolar today," Harry commented bluntly.

"I should be saying that to you," Hermione said. "One minute you're embarrassed from your "almost accident" and now you're mocking me."

"I always mock you," Harry said with a sly grin. "You're not that hard of a person to impersonate."

"Is that so?" Hermione challenged with a slight laugh. "Say and do something I normally do then."

Harry, seeing this as another opportunity to tease the witch, just turned his head away abruptly, tilted his chin up with a fake scowl, and then, in his best feminine voice, huffed out, "Honestly!"

Hermione, after a moment of her mind registering what she saw, bursts out in howling laughter, the sound heard echoing in the alleyway and then rebounding back to them. Harry watched her look alive, admiring the little things that came when she was loose from her uptight composure; the lift of her cheeks, the crinkling corners of her eyes, and the tip of her tongue tracing the corner of her lips. He instantly realized what he was doing and immediately turned away, forcing his eyes to stare ahead. It was difficult because of the infectious sounds coming from her but he restrained himself.

"I – do – not – sound – like – that!" Hermione said through her cackling.

"Yes you do."

"I do not."

"Hermione," Harry said. "Come on."

"I do not sound like that, Harry Potter," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "Hone-" She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise, and Harry laughed pleasantly as he gave her a sly grin.

"See? Told you," he said smugly.

Hermione swatted him in the arm lightly and he chuckled as she blushed heavily, grumbling lowly under her breath, "Cocky prat." They continued to trek down the alley, their footsteps heard pattering on the concrete, the horns and tire squeals of cars zooming by, the chattering of people walking by heard buzzing, and also various dogs barking or cats hissing are sounded nearby. They were reaching the end of the alley where they can see the bright redness of a telephone booth.

"Seriously, what were you going to say before?" Hermione asked.

Harry groaned, tilting his head back. "Is it really that important to know?"

"Yes." She looked like she was joking but Harry could not be so sure. "You just seem to be acting very coolly – not too emotionless but not intact with them. It makes me wonder what you're thinking about."

"I always tell you what I'm thinking," Harry said.

"Not all the time," Hermione accused playfully. "About ninety-seven percent of the time, you edit."

"Not very much," Harry muttered under his breath.

"I'm still curious about what's on your mind," Hermione retorted casually, never taking her eyes off of his face.

Harry did not respond and he wondered if he should ruin the moment of playful peace with his thoughts. He did not want to speak about his disagreement with Ginny from the previous night because he did not want to relive the guilt and sadness that comes with it but he truly wanted to know about Hermione's night. He figured perhaps she does want to talk about it with him but does not know how to bring it up. But then that would not sound like Hermione at all. She takes things head on and if she wanted to talk about it, she would have brought it up as soon as they left their cars. Or it could be that she knew what he had on his mind. She was always able to read his mind like the thousand open books she owns. He was not sure if he should be glad about that or aggravated.

In the end, Harry decided to throw caution to the wind. He lets out a deep sigh as he comb back his hair, revealing his lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead temporarily, and then he scratched his neck.

"Ginny and I had a row last night," he admitted reluctantly.

"I'm guessing it's because of that article by that wretched bint, Rita Skeeter," Hermione said, her tone soft with guilt and defeated in acceptance. Harry instantly knew that she already saw the newspaper and he was glad that he did not have to explain in full detail like Hermione would have liked.

"You guessed right."

"Ginny should know better than to believe a word from that bint. She read her articles and she worked with her for years now. Making faux stories is her specialty. You would think she learned her lesson after fourth year but obviously she doesn't have a brain in that thick head of hers. Nothing but a hollow skull, I say. And she's trying to relive that old story of me going after famous wizards again. Honestly. She doesn't know a thing about originality. Maybe I should go pay her a visit and bring her back to her small home of a jar to-"

"Hermione. _Hermione!_ " Harry interrupted abruptly, slipping his arm away from her hand and then grasped her by her shoulders to give her a quick shake. Once he saw that he has her attention, he said with an amused smile, "Breathe. You're rambling."

Hermione exhaled deeply, her shoulders slagging slightly. Harry can feel the tense knots of her muscles disappear into soft skin as she breathed evenly.

"Better?" he asked.

"Loads," she replied with a nod as Harry pulled his hands away from her shoulders then she slipped her hands back on the bend of his elbows and they resumed walking towards the telephone booth. "Sorry about that. You know how I feel about her."

"I do," he said.

"So what did Ginny say about it?" she questioned carefully.

Harry frowned. "What do you think?"

Hermione ignored the rough tone of his words and said, "Assumption of being unfaithful. Dislike of spending too much time with me. And rumors running amuck. The list is endless."

Harry blinked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're spying on me or the same thing happened to you with Ron."

He saw her grimace at the mentioning of her husband; he immediately knew that he had reached the peak of her behavior and that his previous thoughts were once again correct. He would not be surprised if Ron had waited for Hermione's arrival to stealthy mention the article and Hermione, being observant and aware, probably caught on to his trick and they ended up having a loud discussion themselves. He was honestly glad that his arguments with Ginny were not as strong as Ron and Hermione's or otherwise the neighbors would have called the police for making such a ruckus.

"I wish the first one was true rather than the latter," Hermione sighed.

"Ron cornered you too?"

"Last night and this morning," she said. "I have a feeling we're going to have another one when I get home."

"Makes two of us," Harry mumbled.

"Please, Harry," Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You have a bigger advantage to getting Ginny's forgiveness than I have with Ron."

"What do you mean?" Harry inquired.

"You can get her a present or something – anything that she likes," Hermione answered with a shrugs. "Some girls love stuff like flowers, chocolate, and maybe even a small apology stuffed bear. Anything that shows how sorry you are really."

"Not Ginny," Harry chuckle. "Have her met her, Hermione? She doesn't have a soft spot for those kinds of things."

"I said _some girls_ ," Hermione pointed out. "I know better than to even suggest flowers or stuffed bears to Ginny. Chocolates on the other hand – you can get her some chocolate eclairs. I remember her telling me once that she's obsessed with those at George and Angelina's wedding. Try getting her that."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said. "What about you? What happened with Ron?"

Hermione frowned. "He's upset with me, obviously. Telling me that I'm spending too much time at work and not enough at home with him and Hugo. Then he tells me about the article, saying that instead of going to a pub, I could have gone and visit Rose. He's angry about how Skeeter wrote that article about us but he also didn't like how "cozy" we looked in the photo either. He found it a bit discouraging…"

Harry felt her grip on his arm tighten, her nails digging through the fabric of his black slim, long-sleeve shirt, and raised his eyebrows in alarm as he watched her face transition from sourness to fury.

"But the main reason why we had a row was because he dared to bring my father into it," she continued, her voice filled with an animosity that Harry did not think she was really capable to gather. "Saying that I hardly ever visit him anymore now and how upset he must be by my lack of attention to him, talking about him as if he's already dead. I may have said a couple of things that pushed the wrong buttons in him but I don't regret it. He brought my father in it and he should know better than doing that. Especially now."

Harry did not need to hear any further. He knew what Hermione meant. The topic of speaking of one's parent who has their life balancing between life and death has a heavy sensitivity. Along with being pressure with work and trying to maintain a healthy relationship with a child is also difficult. Harry wished he could understand how Hermione felt about the conflict she is in. He only knew what it is like to have a row with his spouse but to have the pressure of a community to put a man behind bars, the stress of a significant other having expectations that seem impossible to reach, the weight of needing to attend a child, the apprehension of a parent's health on the line, and then the drifting relationship of a first born seemed too much for Harry to even think about.

He is rather startled that Hermione is even able to stay sane. The immense workload she has to juggle with every day, hourly, was frightening. With bills to pay and taxes due lodged in the equation, Harry could feel his head throbbing in pain as he tried to calculate how she is able to do so. He has no doubt that Ron takes care half of the responsibilities like he is supposed to as husband and father but when he thinks about Hermione's part, he was appalled. Although she is one of the most organizing people he knows, there is a limit to such payments and he wondered if she had ever reached it without his knowledge.

They were near the telephone booth when Harry heard a choked squeak and a sniffle coming from Hermione. Horrified, he looked at her to see her eyes were swollen, red around the rim, and a wall of tears were forming up, making her brown eyes seem blurry. He paused on walking, her moving along with him, and he took her hand off his arm to turn her to him by her shoulders. She gazed at his collarbone, avoiding his worried eyes on her.

"Hermione," he whispered cautiously. She slowly lifted her eyes up to meet his as soon as her tears spilled over and ran down on her pink cheeks. Seeing this, Harry sighed and brought one hand up to her face to gently wipe away the unwanted tears with his thumbs. "Come on. Don't cry," he pleaded helplessly.

Hermione's lips quivered as a ragged hiccup escaped from the back of her throat and more tears leaked onto her face, moistening her cheeks in a drenched mess. Then, unexpectedly, she dropped her head forward onto Harry's chest, burying her face in his torso, making him let out a stunned gasp, and then her body began to shake violently as she released one sob after another, the sound muffled in his shirt. Her arms came up to wrap around his middle strongly in a tight embrace, locking her hands together behind his back, as she cried.

Harry's had his arms helplessly limped on his sides, unsure how he should continue. He did not have much experience when it came to girls crying. Ginny hardly ever cried, at least not in front of him, and neither of his children ever wailed whenever they got a scrap on the knee or when they end up hurting each other as they wrestled. They all just embraced the pain that came with a wound and kept on with their activities. He had seen Hermione cry; he had offered her his shoulder when she was broken over Ron and Lavender's then relationship. But, aside from that, he did not know how to handle in comforting someone crying. Emotions through physical contact or mentally were never his specialty. He had lacked it all his life because of the Dursley's and even though he has many dear women in his life now, he still did not know what to do.

He felt horrible to not be able to do much for Hermione, knowing how crushed and despondent she is, and he wish he had allowed himself to get involved with more women during their Hogwarts years so he could have the experience. He can feel his shirt was beginning to feel wet in her drowning tears and her breathing was unleveled as she kept bawling. The noises pained Harry; he justify that the thousand pressuring weights have finally gotten to her and she clearly held off a lot of emotions for a long time with the way how she lamented depressingly into his torso.

Hesitantly, Harry raised one hand to gently stroke her hair while he slithered the other around her waist, landing his palm on the small of her back, and began to carefully rub in a circular motion. He felt her stiffen, and he was worried that perhaps he was doing something wrong, but then he relaxed as she loosened with a deep breath. Relieved, he continued to hold her whilst she wept, listening to her in silence (as much silence as he can with the commotion of the streets from the end of the alley) and after a moment of consideration, he tentatively rested his cheek on the top of her head as he pulled her closer to him, engulfing her petite figure in his arms.

Hermione sniffled, turning her head to press her cheek against his chest, and tightened her hold around him. Another broken sob emerges from her and she heaved in a gulp of air.

" _Shh_ ," Harry hushed her quietly, surprising himself from the softly and gentleness he showed. He weaved his fingers through her hair, scratched his nails across her scalp, and rubbing the nape of her neck.

"I just wish he could see things through my perspective," Hermione whimpered. "He makes me seem like the bad guy without considering the things I do. He doesn't understand the sacrifices I'm making."

Harry remained silent. He knew that she needed to rant out all the pent up feelings she has been keeping bottled up for a long time and he did not know how long it has been since these specific problems began between his best friends, but he just knew that he wanted Hermione to stop feeling so small. It made his chest squeeze in an unpleasant way that made it seem incredible how he is able to still breathe and the emotions he can sense coming from her are affecting him greatly that he can feel the back of his eyes stinging a bit. He never knew that the tears of a woman can have such a powerful effect on him.

"He's always going on about how I'm not home often, how I need to spend more time with the kids, and how we barely see each other now. He doesn't understand. I'm working so hard to make sure our kids have everything they need and that it's safe for them to go out. I don't like the idea of them being outside when there's dark wizards or snatchers on the loose and I'm working hard to make sure they're put behind bars – all of them. I know Ron or the kids don't like me being away so much. I know that's why Rose isn't so close to me – I know Ron talked to you about her that night – and it hurts me so much that she thinks so little of me as a mother. I don't want the same thing to happen with Hugo. I love the both of them so much…" she paused for a moment to breathe in deeply before she continued, "Ron makes it worse whenever he reminds me that my daughter resents me. He has an easy job where he can come home whenever he likes but mine requires my time almost twenty-four-seven. I can't take a break and Ron can't seem to just support me through it and that's unfair because when he was training to be an Auror, he hardly had time for me or he was too tired and I supported him through that. So why can't he do the same for me?"

Harry sighed deeply. He understood Hermione's position perfectly. When Ginny used to play for the Holyhead Harpies, she was gone on tour for months and her letters to him were less than often. He had begun his Auror missions with Ron at the same time so he hardly sent any of his own too but whenever he did he would sent her his words of encouragement and honesty. He had missed her terribly but he understood that the distance between them was caused for good purposes and when she had gotten pregnant with James, she chose to retire from her Quidditch career so she could be closer to her family.

However, they did have their heated moments about his career whenever he was not home to help raise James. He felt unsupported at the fact that he's risking his life daily to arrest the wanted people who tried to kill them in the war and he was close to his breaking point as the responsibilities of his merged world piled up. But the difference was that Hermione had been there to even things between him and Ginny. She would take the time of her day to help Ginny with James at home and with him at his job when she was just an beginner of her job at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the time so her work was not as intense as it was now. He was grateful for her involvement at the time because he knew that if she hadn't offered her help then his marriage with Ginny probably wouldn't have lasted.

But this bothered Harry, mainly with himself. Hermione had been able to help him with his struggles yet he is not doing the same. A few lunch dates and leaving their job together was not gratifying enough for him. He just witnessed her having a breakdown on the many hardships she is facing – a feat he did not think to be possible for someone like Hermione – and all he is doing is holding her while she cried. It was not enough for him. She needed more than just a simple hug from a friend – she needed somebody to show her that there is faith in what she does and her reasons behind it. Ron was too focused on the effects outside of her actions that he is blinded to what is behind. Harry felt a sense of disappointment in his best friend for that.

They stood there for a couple of minutes, tightly holding each other, as Hermione cried her tears into Harry's already-damped shirt with him gently stroking her tamed hair and his other hand stilled on her trembling back. Through the moment, he can hope that she cannot feel the rapid beating of his heart thumping in his chest due to the close proximity between them, and he tried to not think about it because his main priority is to stop her from crying. He did not like the noises or the sight; he felt uncomfortable just standing there not being able to do much.

Then, finally, Hermione pulled away from Harry and wiped away the lingering tears from her cheeks, sniffling a little. Harry had slid his hands down to her waist, barely brushing his fingers, but he never moved them in case she needed another hug. Hermione must have noticed his indecisive hesitance because she took his hands in her and loosely held them between them as she looked up at him with a watery smile.

"Sorry about that," she said. "I didn't mean to ramble on like that."

Harry shook his head. "It's fine."

"It's just," Hermione sighed. "It's a lot, you know?"

Harry nodded, pursing his lips. He did not trust his voice at the moment; his mind was wired at how well the moist skin of her fingers felt grazing on his. _Bloody Potter! She's crying in front of you and you're more interested in her hands? You twit. It's not the first time she held your hand! Quit acting so ridiculous for Merlin's sake!_

Breathing deeply, Hermione released his hands to wipe them over the thigh of her slacks and Harry noticed what she was wearing for the first time since he saw her; a black blazer over a white and black striped shirt, and her choice of footwear were a pair of matte black heels. The shine of her wedding ring nearly blinded Harry with its sparkling diamond.

Harry stared at it for a moment before Hermione cleared her throat and he blinked to refocus on her, realizing that she was looking back at him.

"We should get going," she said, giving him a vague smile before turning away from him and taking a few steps towards the telephone booth. "We'll be late."

Harry nodded, still staring after her. He had recognized the look on her face to be the same one she had on that night he saw her talking to her mother. The smile seemed broken, like she was forcing it. The corners of her mouth were twitching slightly and it never reached her eyes. They seem darker than they possibly could. And that worried Harry to no end.

"Hermione?" he called out to her and she turned to him with curious eyes. He did not know what possessed him to say it but the red rims of her eyes brought an unexplainable pull of the words that stung out of his mouth. "I'm here."

Her face matched the confusion he felt; he did not know why he would say that. But he continued to speak.

"I don't blame you," he said, bemused. "And I don't think Rose thinks little of you as a mother – she just misses you."

Hermione's eye began to glisten and become brighter at his words. Harry was afraid that she might start to cry again and that he was the reason behind her tears; he turned away because he would not know what to do next. He would not be sure if another hug would be sufficient enough to comfort her. But, as he looked at her face again, he was relieved to see that she had a hopeful smile and her eyes were still full of tears but they were of happiness and joy. Harry was glad that he was able to make her feel like that.

Then he held his breath as Hermione took two long strides towards him and flung her arms around him. His heart accelerated into a double pace as the scent of chocolate hit his senses and the sound of her laughter hitting his ears gave his chest a pleasant squeeze but he felt like he was suffocating by the lack of oxygen. He gently patted her on the back as she nuzzled her face into the crok of his neck, her hair tickling his ear and cheek.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered, her lips grazing over the shell of her ear as she breathed. "Thank you so much."

Harry nodded silently, swallowing thickly. Hermione released him, flashing him the kind smile that seems to have a strong effect on him lately, and was wiping away the tears from her face again. For a moment, he was brought back to how she looked when the war was over.

"Better?" he asked cautiously.

"Loads," she said. The smile on her face did not seem to falter. She placed her hand lightly on his arm and gently squeezed it, nodding her head towards the telephone booth. "Now come on or we'll be late for work."

Harry smiled as she went to open the door to the booth and followed her inside, sliding the door closed behind him whilst she dialed in the code. When she was done, she turned around to face him and he can feel his face become exceptionally warm at the fact that there was hardly space between them as he stared at her. From this day, he is still surprised that he was able to grow tall enough to be looking down at her rather than forward, and he did allow himself to accept the fact that he did find Hermione's short height to be adorable. He found short girls attractive. He figured that must be one of the reasons why he was attracted to Ginny and now he is to Hermione.

He wanted to smack himself for thinking like that. _Really, Potter? You're comparing what attracted you to Ginny with Hermione now? They're both the same height so it doesn't make much of a difference!_

As they began to descend, he looked down at Hermione; her doe eyes were so dark that he could not see her pupils, too brown to be able to pinpoint what she feels or what she knows, and held a mysterious void of endless curiosity that gives Harry an unbearable itch to find out. He can feel his toes curling in excitement – the same feeling he usually gets whenever he is out on an assignment or whenever he is sharing a night of sensual passion with Ginny – and he could not understand what it was that Hermione's eyes held to make him feel such a way.

Had he ever felt like this whenever he looked into Ginny's eyes? He had. In the beginnings of his attractions towards her, he would feel a surge of an electrical current shake through him like wires and it would draw him towards her to want to stare deeper in its depths. They reminded him of blue lightning of a storm or the lights of Bluebell Flames spell. They were enchanting, enticing even, and he never saw a perfect shade of blue like Ginny's. But now, he just felt a rush of simple respect and faith whenever he looked in Ginny's eyes; the rush of adrenaline had died down into a tame routine now and it concerned Harry that what he felt for Ginny at the start is now happening with Hermione, especially when he had looked into her eyes many times before.

Could this be another notice that he is realizing now?

Harry cleared his throat loudly as he leaned back against the booth, stuffing one hand in his pocket and the other scratching his nose while he gazed down at his feet.

"Are you going to interrogate Amycus today?" Hermione asked, her voice startling him a bit.

"Yes," Harry answered quickly.

"It's a shame I can't be there to see the action," Hermione said wistfully. "I got an appointment with Twinky and later a meeting with Kingsley about the case. He wants to know how the process of collecting evidence is doing."

"He should have locked that blimey bastard a long time ago – no trial needed," Harry pointed out. "He saw him at the war – Voldemort was too occupied with me to keep track of a spell – all of this is unnecessary."

Hermione sighed. "I couldn't agree with you more. But unfortunately, it doesn't work like that in the government. If it weren't for the vote of the other counselors, Kingsley would have sent him straight to the Dementor's as a treat."

"Counselor's votes be damned – no offense," Harry said.

"None taken. I know I was excluded," Hermione said with a smirk before her face hardened. "But Kingsley couldn't just claim Rowle's defense guilty if it isn't in his favor. He may be the Minister but there are certain things he can't overpower by title. Think of it as the President of the United States – he needs the acceptance of other houses on his decisions. He's there to keep order of things and lead the nation just like Kingsley is. You get what I'm trying to say?"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"You didn't get it?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"No, I got it," Harry nodded. "I'm just starting to question why I'm working with politics now."

Hermione laughed.

The booth halted; Harry slides the door open and stepped out quickly from the cramped space, rolling his shoulders with a groan. He never liked that choice of transportation because he felt claustrophobic whether he was alone or accompanied with another, his frame was much too large for the booth.

"I'll see you later, Harry," Hermione said. "A little warning though – Ron is cooking supper today. Probably spaghetti."

Harry raised a brow. "We're not eating lunch today?"

"The meeting might take longer than an hour and I don't want to leave you alone like that. I certainly don't want to leave you alone with that prat of an assistant of mine either. Gerald would make you go mad for sure without me there to restrain him," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Plus, you should take the time making up with Ginny. Go and visit her during lunch. I'm sure she'll appreciate it and you'll be back to her good graces again."

Scratching his head, Harry murmured, "I suppose so."

"Good luck with Amycus."

"Thanks. Good luck with Kingsley."

Hermione smiled and gave his elbow a quick, soft squeeze before she turned away. Harry stared after her, feeling like every step she took away from him and the smaller her form became within the bustling crowd, he could feel a strong force wanting to demand his feet to follow after her. He wanted to see her eyes again, he wanted to get lost in the black hole of her gaze, and he wanted to feel his heart run another marathon as the outpouring of thrill tremble within him.

He wanted to go in a secret frenzy but he knew he needed to keep himself tamed for the sake of himself. He did not want to go through the fuss of embarrassment and confusion like he almost did a few minutes ago in the booth. He was surprised that she was relaxed while he was in turmoil within his thoughts.

Harry sighed, shaking his head to push out his thoughts of her eyes, and began walking down with the flow of the crowd towards the lifts, feeling rather ashamed of himself.

Because, as bright and captivating Ginny's blue eyes were to him, and how easily enchanted he can get with a simple glance of them, it seemed pale in contrast to the dark and alluring epinephrine he would leave him as a mess that comes from Hermione's brown eyes.

It felt chaotic…

…it felt violent…

…and it felt hostile…

…and Harry had never felt so alive like that before.

* * *

One of the difficulties that come with Harry's job is when he has to look directly in the face of those who murdered thousands of his life and have to grip his fists tightly as he stared into the eyes that taunt him with the screams of the ghosts they had tortured. He could not recall the numerous times he had to be pulled away from interrogation sessions by his colleagues in his earlier days whenever he was assigned to question a suspect under custody or the many times he had to be suspended until he is clear in the mind to continue with a case. He should have been fired when he had punched a Snatcher for disrespecting him by mocking the many people he had snatched in return for money but oddly he had been given a warning instead and he never got to find out why. He was just pleased with the good luck he had.

Harry had decided to go in the interrogation room alone but he had two Aurors stationed outside the room in case Amycus had tried any methods to escape. He is wondering if his abilities as an Auror is faltering if one of his wanted criminals was able to live in disguise for the past nineteen years under his nose and he wanted to be cautious. It had been a while since a Death Eater was held down and he did not want to go through the struggle of hunting him again.

Harry was walking down the narrow hallway towards the interrogation room, his eyes skimming over the unrolled parchment in his hands. He had just finished writing the terms of the Bewitched Contract not too long ago and he was proofreading in case he did not make an error because one mistake would ruin when he performed the charm on it. It could cause the contract to burn into ashes as soon as the receiver signs it.

Harry scanned over the parchment thoroughly once again. He thinks that Hermione's studious ways had finally rubbed off on him.

 **Witness Agreement**

This Contract is made on **[Insert Date]**

 **Between**

The Ministry of Magic

 **And**

 **[Insert Name of Inmate]**

Number: **[Insert Inmate Number]**

 **THE PARTIES AGREE AS FOLLOWS**

1\. The following are the terms agreed under the binding contract between the Ministry and the Inmate

 **FUNDAMENTAL TERMS**

2\. The purpose of this contract is to have permission of the witness to be present in court under the favor of the Ministry when called upon and speak under the oath of law.

3\. The witness must agree to not speak to suspect in custody before or after the court is in session. Witness may acknowledge suspect through eye contact when under oath of law.

4\. Witness will be required to write a statement which will be presented in court. If a change in the statement is spotted, witness shall be escorted back to Azkaban with doubled sentence.

5\. Witness will be under the protection of the Department of Aurors until after the end of court session. Aurors are required to use physical force on witness if necessary or if any signs of homicidal behavior are anticipated from witness or among suspect and witness.

6\. Witness shall not speak about case to those excluded from contract.

7\. Witness agrees to proceed with previous sentence once court session has ended.

 **COMMENCEMENT AND TERM**

8\. The witness enter into this contract on the Commencement Date is fully aware of all terms and undertake to abide its conditions without exception.

9\. This contract shall be effective for the period of time from the Commencement Date. The parties shall discuss whether this contract and the arrangements made under this contract are satisfactory and whether the terms of each party have been met.

 **CONCLUSION**

10\. We the undersigned have read and understood the arrangement of this contract. We freely accept the terms of this contract and have acknowledged this by our signatures below.

 _Signature:_ _ **[Insert Name]**_

 _Date:_ _ **[Insert Date]**_

 _Signature:_ _ **[Insert Name]**_

 _Date:_ _ **[Insert Date]**_

Seeing that there was no grammar error in sight, Harry took out his wand and pointed it towards the parchment. He was already standing in front of the interrogation room without him realizing and the two Aurors he requested were already stationed at their post, watching him expectantly yet readily. He nodded at them respectfully before he performed the charm.

" _Occultae Veritatis,"_ he recited and then the words on the parchment were seen becoming blur for a minute then it became clear. He saw that the ink was solid and the words above turned from AGREEMENT to RELEASE FORM, covering up its true form. He scanned the parchment once again before he rolled it up and then placed it inside the folder. He turned to the two Aurors in front of him with a stone expression.

"Make sure no one gets in unless it is confirmed by me and no one gets out unless they're with me," he commanded.

"Yes chief!"

Harry pushed the door open and stepped inside the room. The scene was bright to him as soon as he entered. He can see Amycus seated at the same chair where Rowle once occupied; he was wearing the same clothes he was arrested in only they were clad in dried dirt and smelled of sewer water – the scene to the prison. There were also dark smudges around his face and slight purple bruises from when he collapsed at the market.

"Carrow," Harry said curtly.

Amycus raised his head from his arms, a hard scowl on her face. Harry flicked his wand towards the door, casting a quick Locking Spell and then the Silencing Charm. He did not want to risk any information being leaked out from within any walls under the name of his department or Hermione's and he knew that reporters from the Daily Prophet would try to gather as much as they could through anything and everybody.

"You know why you're in here right?" Harry asked as he went to sit down on the chair across from Amycus and set the folder on the table in front of him.

"Hmm," Amycus sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "I'm guessing for selling clothes to witches and wizards? Living a life under another name? I don't see any reasons for my arrest, _Chief Potter_."

"You're under arrest for the murder of witches and wizards throughout the years, your servitude to Lord Voldemort, the usage of the Cruciatus Curse on innocent students of Hogwarts, usage of the Killing Curse, impersonation of another fellow wizard, murder of Charlie Twan – my officers found his real body in the storage back at the store - and association with the werewolf, Fenrir Greyback," Harry explained. "You're also being charged for hiding from imprisonment and assisting other wanted criminals such as Jugson. For all your actions, you're facing twenty five years to life as punishment. Parole will not be included. Other punishments will be decided by the counselors of the Wizengamot."

"Well that's a bit harsh, don't you think, Chief?" Amycus inquired mockingly, cupping his jaw as he leaned against his elbow on the table. "And with no evidence too? Not even a trial to prove my innocence? I'm starting to think you favor your suspects."

"Statements from witnesses and memories of those who survived against you are concrete enough to confirm your judgment," Harry said gruffly. "No trial needed – counselor's words."

"I see," Amycus murmured. "So what am I here for if my fate is already decided?"

"You're here for another case," Harry said. He pulled out the parchment from the folder and slides it towards Amycus across the table then he transfigured the folder into a quill. "I have a proposition for you and I'm sure you will find it to your liking."

Amycus took the parchment in his hands and glanced over it before he raised an astonished brow. "A release form?"

"Yes."

"For what price?"

"For a case I need you in. I'm sure you've heard about your comrade Thorfinn Rowle going to trial for his crimes, yeah?"

"Yeah, I've read about them," Amycus replied casually. "Surprised that barmy git isn't rotting in hell like I expected. Guess not all good things happen to just good people."

Harry ignored him. "I need you as a witness on the stand for court."

Amycus raised a brow in amusement and surprise. Harry tangled his hands on the table, his face impassive of all emotions, and he pursed his lips.

"And why should I agree to this?" Amycus questioned.

"Because if you follow along with this then I can assure you that I will drop all charges against you for all your crimes."

"I highly doubt you would."

"I would have to if you sign that release form," Harry lied effortlessly. "It's charmed the same way as the Unbreakable Vow. The terms are that if you go along with the process then you will be freed, you won't be under surveillance, and you will be welcomed to go where you like if you do not go against the law."

"So if I do break this vow then I'll die?" Amycus asked. "And if you do the same so will you?"

"I will die but if it's broken on your end then the binding of this contract is done and I will be allowed to hunt you down again and arrest you for all previous charges," Harry answered gruffly.

Amycus scoffed, sliding the parchment back toward Harry with an uneasy scowl, and leaned back into his chair as he folded his arms.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline," he said, not sounding sad at all. "To risk my freed or lack of and for another who had stupidly let himself get captured by you fools is not worth so much to me."

Harry chose to go on a different approach. "And your sister?"

"What?" Amycus' interest was piqued. "What about my sister?"

"If you look closely at the fundamental terms," Harry began, sliding the parchment back at Amycus. "You can see that if you choose to agree then the charges on her with also be dropped and I'll call back my officers who are searching for her at this moment. From my last report, they are close to cornering her over at the Virgin Komi Forests in Russia. And from what she's done, she'll be facing a life sentence in Azkaban with no parole."

Amycus was silence; his Adam's apple was bobbing up and down as he shifted his weight around in his chair and his eyes were darted everywhere except Harry. The Head Auror instantly knew that he already got the suspect under contemplation and had broken the ignorant barrier with the mentioning of his sibling. Like Alecto is to Amycus, he would shield one of the only precious people he can depend on with his life. For a moment, Harry felt bad for manipulating.

"But if you sign this form then I can guarantee you that she won't have to live like that as well as you," Harry said with false sincerity, bottling up the remorse he felt bubbling up in him. "You two will be able to live life normally and start over. You can get away from this life. All I need is for you to sign this and come to court as a witness. After that, you're free to go."

Amycus stared at Harry intently. "What do I need to be a witness of?"

Harry held out the quill to Amycus, pointing at the parchment. Amycus reluctantly took the quill and quickly wrote his signature in a messy scrawl, added his cell number, and then the date before he tossed both items back at Harry who copied his actions. Once he was done, he slipped the parchment back in the folder.

 _Now we're getting somewhere_ , Harry thought. "The night when Rowle's parents were murdered," he explained. "We have sources confirming you were there along with your sister. We know how Rowle killed his parents too. We have evidence to put him behind bars – quadrupling his charges to a possible death sentence."

"Okay and…?"

"Unfortunately he came up with a ridiculous story of being under the Imperius Curse by Voldemort," Harry said. "It was enough to convince the counselors because it was possible enough to be true but unfortunately he had a few flaws in his story. Right now we need to confirm that he was never under the influence of the curse. That's where you come in and tell me." Harry stared directly into Amycus' eyes with a dark look. "Was he under the Imperius Curse when he murdered his family?"

Amycus laughed heartily. "Of course he wasn't!"

Harry felt a wave of pride and relief wash over him, rolling over to the base of his spine as he tingled in anticipation. He was able to manage himself and seem unaffected by this as he cleared his throat, balling his hands into loose fists.

"Thorfinn is – how to I say it? A complex fellow," Amycus continued. "He hated his parents with a passion and his loyalty to the Dark Lord was so deep that it was frightening. Some even thought he was obsessed. When he came across Voldemort, he was given the test to prove how much faith he had in ridding the world of all Mud- sorry _Muggle-borns_ ," Amycus quickly corrected himself when he saw Harry had given him a hard look, "and he came with the idea of killing his parents."

"But why his parents?" Harry asked. "They were pure-bloods."

"They were supporters – they were blood traitors," Amycus said. "Thorfinn never got along with his parents because they were fascinated by all things related to Muggles. They were involved in several campaigns for Muggle-born rights and worked with such a kind. Thorfinn, however, saw them as dirt. Inferior, below, or lower than the ground he walked on, Thorfinn would spit on it. He quickly won the trust of Voldemort when he came with the idea of his parent's death."

"I see," Harry murmured.

"Is that all?" Amycus asked.

"Yes it is," Harry said, rising up from his chair and stuffing the folder in the pocket of his coat. "Thank you for your time, Carrow. Now I'm going to send in one of my officers so you can write a statement and all you have to worry about is coming to court and then you're free from all charges. Your sister included."

Amycus nodded silently. "This isn't a trick, Potter? I'll actually be able to leave after this case?"

Harry kept his face steady of all emotions. "Yes," he said calmly. He pushed his chair in and walked away from the table as an attempt to avoid being interrogating of his true intentions. He already felt bad for using a family relative as an excuse to gain information but he quickly crushed the feeling with the fact that he is able to put two men behind bars where they belong and he was glad to know that he is able to move forward.

"Potter."

Harry halted and turned back to Amycus to see him staring at him cautiously, almost as if he was thinking hard.

"Last time I saw Jugson, he was using Polyjuice Potion to look like Galvin Gudgeon," Amycus said. "He told me he was going to Montana for a meeting with one of our own. I don't know who but all I know is that he is traveling there like a Muggle. He has on an Apparation-Locating Charm he was never able to take off. I suggest you look through trains and planes if you want to capture him and whoever he is meeting up with."

Harry's eyes widen. He recognized Galvin Gudgeon as the Seeker for the Chudley Cannons, Ron's most favored Quidditch team. He remembered reading in the Daily Prophet that Galvin was spotted in Twilfitt and Tattings signing autographs to his fans and was reported to be doing poorly in the practice hours recently as if " _he had never flown a broomstick before in his life_ " according to what he read in the article. Harry found it strange that a well-known sports icon is suddenly faltering and he had shrug it off because he knew that the Chudley Cannons were not exactly an elite team in the league. But now he understood why: Galvin Gudgeon must have been murdered by Jugson.

Swallowing thickly, Harry nodded. "Appreciate it."

"No problem."

Harry undid the Locking Charm on the door before quickly exited the interrogation room with ease, his jaw clenched tightly. He can hear his knuckles cracking as he tightened his fist, nearly breaking the skin of his palm as his nails dug deeper.

"Chief?" one of the Auror's standing by the door called out worriedly, probably noticing the strong look on Harry's face.

"Dillingham," Harry breathed deeply through his nose and turned to the focused Auror, handing him the folder he just took out of his coat. "Take these to Counselor Granger and send in Mal for Carrow – and you, Carter – get Smith and Reynolds. Tell them to go to Galvin Gudgeon's house for an investigation and come back with a full report on my desk before nightfall – now!"

Both Aurors nodded, blessedly not asking for any further information, and then they separated to opposite directions down the hallways, living Harry to guard the door until the writer comes. He pushed back the sleeve of his coat and looked at his watch; the hand containing Ginny's picture was seen pointing at the Daily Prophet and above the time read to be eleven-fifty-two. It was eight minutes until his lunch break.

Perhaps he should take Hermione's advice and visit Ginny at her job. He will need to see where he can buy those chocolate eclairs she is obsessed about once the writer comes.

* * *

Harry was quick to disapparate from the Ministry as soon as the writer came with a security escort and he was immediately consumed within the rapid crowds of Diagon Alley. He was able to slide through the flow of consumers to head over to the bakery, hardly acknowledging the greetings from those he passed by and entered the colorful building, the sugary smells instantly hitting his nose as soon as he stepped inside.

The baker was a small, plump woman with cherry red lipstick and a pixie haircut. She had a warm vibe with the soft stare of her hazel eyes and she smelled like the bread and frosting, a tasting flavor. When Harry pushed the door open, her attention looked up as the small bell rang and Harry felt flustered at the encouraged smile she sent his way.

"G'day, Auror Potter," she said kindly as she wiped her hands off the ragged apron tied securely around her waist and swiping off the cake batter stains on her blouse. She seemed excited to see a famously known wizard such as Harry to be searching through her store and he was not sure if it was because she hardly had any celebrity visits for a while or if it was because he hardly ever showed up in the bakery. Ginny is the one who comes to collect the desserts or he would bake for evening dinners when he has the ingredients he needs and judging by the look of admiration, he knew that Ginny spoke of him during her visits.

Harry approached the display counter calmly. "Uh…" He placed his hands on the top as he looked through the selections on sight. He can see various kinds; toffees, cupcakes, brownies, cakes, bread and butter puddings, Chelsea Buns, Eccles cakes, fruit cakes, mince pies, and trifles. They were all deliciously tempting that Harry could feel a sweet tooth growing and his mouth watering at the sight.

"Anything you like sure?" the woman asked patiently.

"Um," Harry pursed his lips. "By any chance, do you have any chocolate éclairs?"

"Chocolate éclair?" the woman grimaced. "I'm sorry, we don't make that here."

"Oh," Harry frowned. "That's fine then."

He was about to bid his farewells to the baker and leave the building but then the woman had stopped him. He turned back to her out of curiosity as she went around the counter, walking towards the door that will lead her to a backroom.

"Let me Floo Chef Fournier," she said. "He makes the best chocolate eclairs in France. Just give me a moment."

Then she elbowed her way into the backroom.

Harry looked around the bakery aimlessly, wanting to distract himself from the uncomfortable tension he is feeling for being in an atmosphere so foreign to him. The bakery had been built in 2008 to replace the old one that had been shattered during the war and it had quickly been named as number two in the sweet charts due to its famous Tickle Taffy. He had not tried them but he had heard that the cherry flavor could be felt tingling on the tongue, making it last at least twenty-four hours. It did not affect the other food eaten on the particular day it is consumed but the taste does not leave at all either. It is a clever invention for children or the holidays such as Valentine's Day and Christmas. He figured he should buys some for the kids.

A rattling sound came from inside the backroom, startling Harry out of his thoughts. He was able to hop over the counter and head inside to assist the baker but then the woman was seen stepping out with a white square box that held an aroma tempting Harry to peek inside. She smiled at him warmly as she placed the box on top of the counter.

"Here they are, sir – chocolate eclairs," she stated.

Harry pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

"Oh no, it's on the house," she said quickly. "Chef Fournier was so honored to have you request for them that he wants you to just have them. He said it was enough of a price for him."

Harry frowned. He really did not like when someone would give him something for free all because of his name. He took out six Galleons from his wallet and placed them on the counter next to the box.

"I don't know what the actual price is for them but give him three of these for me," he said, taking the box in his hands. "The other three are for you. Thank you for your services."

He gave her a gleaming smile, dazing the baker momentarily.

"Uh," The baker shook her head, blinking. "Y-your welcome. Have a good day, sir."

"You too."

Harry walked out of the bakery, clutch on the box. Several eyes turned to him as he walked south down the market place, other murmuring his name under their breath as they spoke to their comrade, and other just simply watching him closely. It was a rare sight to see him come out of the bakery with a mysterious box especially when he never goes there.

In the south side of Diagon Alley is where the publishing building, Whizz Hard Books, is at and next to it is where the Daily Prophet's main office is located. Before he used to remember it there because the publisher is the one who made his favorite book, Quidditch through the Ages, that Hermione had given to him in their first year and he remembered Rita Skeeter giving it a horrible review. He still held a grudge against her for that out of the millions ones he has.

When he reached the Prophet building, he was bombarded with reporters asking him about Amycus and the Rowle case, although, he swiftly passed by them with ease without them knocking over the box. The building was larger inside than it seemed on the outside; there were various cubicles of typewriters magical writing down what the reporter is speaking, manual machines magically steaming out papers of new editions, large walls of window glass where Harry can see people setting up collected information into the familiar organized structure he has seen for years, and there were closed rooms where Harry assumed to be dark rooms were photographs. He had heard Ginny speak about her job frequently from the beginning that he already knew what was inside. He did not expect himself to feel like he was reverted back into 1922.

 _Technology is slowly taking over_ , Harry thought musingly, staring around at the typewriters he sees as he trudge past the cubicles.

"Chief Potter?"

Harry turned around to find himself facing a dashing man with bright hair, dark eyes, and a chiseled chin. He was wearing a gray button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows and black slacks. His matching shoes seemed polished in the light. He recognized him to be Dean Rogue; he was a regular colleague of Ginny's and he would occasionally come to their house for dinner with his wife.

"Hey," Harry said.

Dean grinned. "Hey mate. What you doing here?"

"Um," Harry blushed lightly, lowering his head a bit as he gestured towards the box. "Is Ginny around?"

"Ginny?" Dean's brows knitted together. "Erm, I think she's in a meeting now with her team. You want me to tell her you're here?"

"Yes, please," Harry said, nodding.

Dean quickly ran off to the east directly, waving at those who call out to him, and Harry saw him cautiously knock on a door. He waited for a minute of silence then the door opened and he entered.

Harry exhaled a huge breath as he leaned against an empty table, seeing at the surface was vacant of supplies and an occupant. He can see some of the employers were beginning to stare at him, some seeming hesitant to come up to him while other were unwelcoming – he knew those were the ones who are grumpy at him for not giving away any information on his cases - and there are friendly ones who would greet him as they walked by carefully to not tip over the box from his hands.

Knots were forming in his stomach to be caught within the eye of lies and gossip when he heard heels stepping towards his direction and he looked up to see Ginny heading his way.

He pushed himself off the table as soon as she stopped in front of him and crossed her arms.

"Hey," he murmured, feeling a bit self-conscious under her hard stare. Her face was calm and free from signs of anger but, after knowing her for a long time, Harry learned that it is her eyes that truly show what she feels. And he can see through the pale blue that there was a raging dark ocean at the sight of him.

"Hey," she said insolently. "What are you doing here?"

"Um," he flicked his eyes around the area for a second, noting that the roar of questions had suddenly died, and then he turned to her. "Can we talk somewhere private?"

Ginny sighed, biting her lip. "They're staring at us, aren't they?"

"Yes."

Ginny sighed and turned away from Harry, walking towards the stairs that lead up to the second floor as Harry followed behind her not too closely. He could hear light murmurs and whispers softly surface from among the cubicles but he chose to ignore them. The only thing he is concern of is to fix things with Ginny. She literally pushed her way into her office and he trailed afterwards, kicking the door open behind him before he placed the box on her desk.

"So why are you here?" Ginny asked after a brief moment of silence.

"I came to apologize – for last night."

Ginny breathed deeply, crossing her arms again. She did not respond immediately and Harry did not pushed in any deeper. He knew she was collecting her thoughts on his random visit and his reason why as he was too. He did not think of it as unbelievable or odd but he just felt like he was being brought back to the beginning of when he used to do this often and the feelings of exhilaration and the ease in his nerves whenever he saw her reminded him why he was in a relationship with her. Perhaps that is why Hermione suggested him to see her.

 _Wicked witch that one_ , Harry thought cheerily at the realization.

"You were right about last night," he began to explain. "I haven't been focusing on you since Hermione's father got admitted. I haven't been home often. And I have been too focused on Hermione lately too – I won't deny that. I disrespected you as my wife and I didn't mean to. I just had a lot going on in my mind."

Ginny leaned against her desk, her posture never changing. Harry felt anxious at her lack of communication and chose the latter; he opened the box, revealing the deliciously baked chocolate eclairs covered in various frosting flavors. He can hope that one of them is her favored taste. He looked at Ginny to see her mesmerized by the view, clearly astonished to see her preferred dessert displayed to her from him, and he smiled slightly. It reminded him the many Christmases and New Year's he shared with her. But then she erased all emotions from her face as she turned back to him and his smile dropped.

"I know it sounds like an excuse but it's just…I had a lot of things going through my head right now and I am trying to sort them out," he continued. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I don't care about you or to be inconsiderate when it comes to you…my mind just isn't with me lately. I've been rattled on about everything that's been going on that I've been really thick about you and Lily." He let out a sigh as he scratched his head. "As for the whole thing with Hermione…I'm sorry about that the most. I really didn't realize how much I've been spending time with her until you pointed it out. She is one of the many reasons why I'm so out of it – I'm worried about her. Her father and her…they share a really close bond – closer than the one she has with me or Ron or anybody in her – and for her to see him in the hospital…it's hard for her to just sit there and not be able to do anything. If it weren't for that bloody law of not performing any form of magic to or in front of a Muggle then he would be back in health again."

Ginny's face began to soften again.

"I really am sorry," he repeated, his eyes pleading and his voice soft in desperation. He truly wanted his wife's forgiveness. He does not know why but whenever it came to a member of the Weasley family, he could not live with the idea of any of them enraged towards him. His fights with Ron would be torturous, his disagreements with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were heartbreaking, and some of his arguments with Ginny were unbearable. It was like they had a magnetic pull within him that hurts when he is beyond the range of five feet from them. He does not know if it was because he has seen them as his family for years or because they are the only family he knew who welcomed him warmly for the first time.

Ginny sighed. "I told you last night about the whole Hermione's dad in the hospital but it's about you being so stressed is what I don't get. You never come to me about these things and that affects me and Lily a lot more than you think."

"I know," Harry said.

"No, you don't," Ginny shook her head. "You don't know what it's like, Harry. So don't act like you do when it's not true."

Harry exhaled. "Alright."

Ginny's lips twitched as she glanced down at the delicate treats. "Is that all?" she asked. "Because I got a meeting to get back to."

"I…" Harry hesitated to reach out to her, not sure if she would allow him to hold her hand or push him away like he did to her. "I don't like us being this way, Gin. I want to fix this."

"It'll have to wait till I get home," she said haughtily, turning to make her way towards the door.

Harry followed her closely. "Gin-"

"I'll see you at home," she said as she opened the door and held it for him. "Leave the chocolates - I'll make sure they won't get spoiled."

Seeing as she was determined on her choice for later, Harry sighed deeply and stuffed his hands in his pocket as he slowly walked out of the office with his head low. He heard the hinges creak behind him and he quickly turned around as the door shut tightly, the shade drawn. He can see the silhouette of his wife fade as she walked away from the door.

For a moment, he thought of a humiliating scenario in his head where he bursts into the office and bows onto his knees as he loudly proclaimed his love for her so the entire Prophet building can hear like he saw those unrealistic romantic movies do but then he decided against it. He could not find the courage to do that; he barely had enough to have his relationship with Ginny be announced publically.

He glanced around at the area again for a second before he inhaled sharply and then disapparated from the spot.

He suppose he would have to wait until he got home to try again to fix things with Ginny and he is willing to do what he can to make sure everything between go back on track again. But a part of him cannot help but wonder how everything are going with Hermione with Ron and hoped that she is having a better luck in getting his forgiveness than he is.

* * *

 **A:N: Tension!** _ **Tension! Tension!**_

 **Occultae Veritatis:** _Hidden Truth_

 **Please Review!**


	12. Poisons and Antidotes

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned.

I would love to say thank you to **Classic Vision** and **Fabinaci** who are my top reviewers of the story. Your opinions, predictions, and insight on the story are greatly appreciated and I hope to hear more from you. Thank you so much for your support.

 **Covered in Bruises:** I would have to disagree with you on some things about the last chapter. Yes, Hermione does not seem like the most likable character in the story right now but then again I am trying to make this seem as realistic as possible and people who are in Hermione's situation do go through this. Also Hermione did not really admit that she does not visit; she is actually saying what Ron told her and she did not confirm them to be true. Lastly, Harry and Hermione's kids attend at a Muggle school; I don't think they can just pop in the middle of the campus all willy-nilly - kids actually do notice things more than adults can - so I think it is actually logical for them to drive their kids there and then take the car with them - it would seem weird for them to just leave it there at the school.

Aside from this, thank you for your review :)

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

 _And if you have a minute why don't we go_

 _Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

 _This could be the end of everything_

 _So why don't we go_

 _Somewhere only we know?_

 _Somewhere only we know?_

\- Somewhere Only We Know; Keane

* * *

 _"The more you care, the more you have to lose."_

\- Harry Potter

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Poisons and Antidotes**

Harry was confused at first to what was surrounding him. He was in a room where there was no light on except for one shining through the large windows. There were beds covered with white sheets and white curtains, some drawn while other weren't. There was a door by one of the windows, tables next to the beds, and cabinets full of vials. Three of the beds held the lump of a patient's form beneath the covers, their chests breathing evenly as they slept.

With a curious pang, Harry walked over to one of the beds where he can see a patch of dark hair and when he peered over the form, he was surprised to see himself. He seemed older than his last memory but still held a baby face. He had a few scars on his face (excluding the lightning bolt scar on his forehead), his clothes were ragged and dirtied, and his skin was paler. Surprisingly, he was awake unlike the other two patients. His eyes were wide whilst he stared up at the arching ceiling. He looked like he was thinking about something far away, as far as Harry can tell with the longing look in his eyes, but his face was impassive and he cannot tell what was running through his mind.

A sound of sheets ruffling was heard from the bed beside him and a small, timid voice was heard whispering, "Harry? Are you awake?"

Older Harry whirled around at the direction of the voice and he was surprised to see the long mane of Hermione's brown hair come into the light as she slipped the sheet off her. Her pink jacket had dirt on various spots, her jeans were torn by the knee, and her hair was a mess of knots. He can see that she seem to begin developing around the chest area as well as her curves were becoming profound with the way how her cloths held her nicely no matter how loose and wrinkled they are. Faint scars and bruises can be seen carved on her face and there was a small wound on her parted lip, where Harry can see the tips of her buck teeth.

 _Third year_ , Harry thought when realization dawned to him and he glanced around the room once again, finally seeing that he was in the Hospital Wing back at Hogwarts. It had been years since he stepped inside the room that the details were a bit sketchy to him except for the memories of the causes behind his visits to the small medical ward.

Older Harry turned back to Younger Harry to see him turning his head to his side, a slight smile on his face as he nodded.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"I can't," Hermione answered honestly. "And you?"

"Me neither."

Hermione slipped off the bed and went to sit on the wooden bed beside Younger Harry's bed, leaning against it as she released a sigh. Her eyes were scrutinizing Harry curiously yet expectantly, almost like she knew the answer of his restless behavior and she probably did but she just wanted to hear it.

"Are you thinking about Sirius?" she asked and Harry felt his chest constrict painfully at the name he forbade himself from mentioning again. It had been years since he ever heard his godfather's name but the pain was still there buried deep in his heart, he covered it up with many wonderful memories and distractions for him to not remember it is there. Yet he felt like a live puppet as the strings pulled on the arteries of his heart and made it bleed like a pipe leak.

Younger Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"I can imagine it's a lot to process," Hermione commented heartily with a small smile as she brought on knee up to her chest and hugged it tight, her other leg resting limply.

"It is," Harry said while sitting upright on the bed and leaning against the metal headboard. He reached over to the table to get his glasses and placed them over his eyes.

"You're already missing him," Hermione said. It was a statement than a question, Harry noticed.

"It's weird," Harry replied, absent-mindedly. "I grew up thinking that the Dursleys were the only family I got and now I have a godfather I didn't even know about who wants to take me away from here and give me a better life." He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "It's just weird. But…I can't wait for it."

Hermione smiled fondly. "That's great, Harry. I'm glad."

"Thanks," Harry grinned widely. "It's been less than twenty-four hours but I can already picture it; us riding our brooms, him showing me all kinds of spells, charms, and potions, teaching me how to become an Animagus, and many more. He'll tell me stories about my parents – how they met – how the Marauders formed – stories about Professor Lupin as a werewolf – everything."

Hermione's brown eyes twinkled amber as she listened to Younger Harry's words and Older Harry admired how the color made them seem like minerals sparkling like crystals under the moonlight. But the feeling of delight and euphoria he is getting from seeing her smiling in contentment to see his younger self pouring out his hopes in a better future with a founded family member is greater than his admiration for her eyes. He can see the interest, the pleasure, and the happiness held inside her to watch him act peaceful and hopeful for a better life like it was a magnificent jewel for her. He never knew her simple smile contained such intense emotions towards him or how he could have missed it the many times she sent it his way.

Younger Harry groaned a bit as he craned his neck, using his hand to rub around the neck. Hermione was quick to stand from the chair and she was already sitting beside him on the bed. She placed her hand on his shoulder, using her thumb to gently rub over the collarbone, making him wince a bit.

"Still a bit sore?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah," he grumbled, nodding. "Guess that's what happens when you fight the Whomping Willow."

Hermione laughed but then she was cut short by the loud, rumbling snore roaring from across the room and both, her and Harry, turned towards the sound. Older Harry followed their lead and he can see the figure of a thirteen-year-old Ron Weasley dreaming the night away with his mouth open, his injured leg wrapped in a cast. Faint scars and purple bruises are painted over his freckled face. He seemed worn out and deflated of energy like the rest of them are but he seemed easier to fall into heavy slumber. He remembered feeling envious of his ability to do that.

"Nice to know somebody is having a good night's sleep," Hermione said jokingly and Younger Harry nodded in agreement with a small chuckle. "How he has the ability to shut out the world so quickly is forever a mystery to me."

"You're not the only one," Harry retorted. "Maybe Madam Pomfrey gave him a lot of Calming Draught since he wouldn't stay still earlier."

"Probably," Hermione nodded, still rubbing his shoulder kindly to soothe the pained muscles beneath his skin.

Younger Harry turned back to her. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"Never better," she answered. "My ribs are still throbbing a bit from the hit I took from the Whomping Willow but aside from that, I feel alright."

Younger Harry frowned. "Are you sure? You don't feel anything weird? I mean, you fainted earlier from the Dementor's-"

"So have you," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, and it's not my first," Harry said nonchalantly. "But it was yours. I know how it feels and it's not pleasant."

Hermione rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face. "I'm fine, Harry, truly. Nothing different," she told him but Older Harry can see that the corners of her lips were twitching a little as she looked at him, though her eyes did not waver what her words meant. Comfort. Reassurance. And serenity.

Apparently, Younger Harry saw something differently and Older Harry remembered that he thought she was hiding what she truly felt. Even now, he still thinks that she was. He watched as his younger self reached for her hand on his shoulder and entwined them as a sign of a soothing effort. It was possibly the second time he had ever held her hand without the urge to pull her away from danger but to just have it in his palm.

Hermione seemed enthralled by the way how their hands were twined together, like she is memorizing the sight, and Older Harry wondered what could be going through her mind by a simple act. Perhaps she was taken back by the physical contact that is unique coming from him or she was stunned with gratitude by his way of assuring her their safety. She blinked and then, with a shy genuine smile, leaned her forehead against the side of his head, ignoring the intake of breath coming from him.

"I'm fine," she repeated, only this time, her lips were close to his ear. Older Harry watched Younger Harry's eyes close and tighten the grip of his hand on hers on his shoulder, absorbing in the softness of her voice and the clearness of her words. He remembered making it as a mantra to reassure himself that she spoke the truth out of confirmation and not to ease him.

Older Harry stared at Hermione. The way how her hand clung to his, how the corners of her eyes crinkled like she was trying very hard not to cry, and the small puffs of air coming out shakily from her. He can see the tension she is holding onto to keep herself together from the events of that one night. He shook his head at his younger self, who seemed oblivious of her caged torture, wanting to turn his head to what was occurring beside him or to yell at him to open his eyes.

 _Look at her! She wants to cry,_ Harry thought frantically, clenching his teeth. _Ask her again, you mindless git! She wants to cry!_

But he knew he could not do anything as this is only a memory of his. He wished he could have a Time-Turner to go back to this specific night and right his wrong because he felt idiotic for being oblivious of what Hermione could be going through emotionally. But did he really not notice this? Thinking back, he realized that whenever he remembers a time with Hermione, he would see something about her from that time but he is only seeing now. Does that mean he saw it but didn't do anything about it? Every year, there is something different.

First year: Hermione already knowing aspects of Harry, him opening up to her about his childhood and his desire to see his parents, and the tingling excitement and nervousness of having his very first kiss with her.

Second year: Hermione thanking him for saving her, him praising her for her brilliance in solving the basilisk, him making her promise him to not get hurt again, the change of her mood in what he would say, him seeing the bubbly side of her he found to be adorable whenever she giggled cutely, and the way how calm he seemed when Hermione held his arm as well as she seemed to be at peace being near him.

Now in third year, he can see that Hermione would be transfixed on his hope for a future life with his godfather, the look she had on her face seem like she was also picturing the scene herself, almost looking as if she was adoring him, and then she was reassuring him of her mental condition to be fair when she was actually trying to fight off an inner struggle. She did not want him to worry about her and focus on Sirius – he felt like a horrible friend.

The moment was broken when the door of the medical ward was slowly pushed open, making Younger Harry and Hermione to pull apart from their position to look at the door in anticipation. Older Harry also turned but then he realized that he had to lower his vision south as the surprise visitor was not actually at a human height or even considered physically human. Mentally, Harry was not sure. He is always shocked with what it can do.

"Crookshanks! My sweet boy!" Hermione whispered excitedly as she leapt off the bed and tip-toed over to the orange feline who was sitting in front of the open doors, his tail fluttering lazily behind him. "I'm glad you're okay! I missed you so much! I've never been so worried in all my life – never scare me like that again, you hear me?"

Older Harry watched her pick up the half-Kneazle in her arms and embraced him warmly to her chest, which he seem to approve as he nuzzled his face into her small bosoms whilst purring in delight. His ears lowered as she scratched him from the head down on his back, his back arching in pleasure at the feel of her nails, and stayed as a limped fur ball in her arms whilst she returned to her bed. Younger Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and leaned over to gingerly scratch Crookshanks' chin. The cat did not seem to oppose to his touch.

"That's a smart cat you got there, 'Mione," he said quietly, never taking his eyes off the feline as he kept scratching his chin. "He helped Sirius capture Pettigrew and he was trying to protect us – you, mostly – I can see why you love him so much. He's a lot like you in the brains department."

Hermione blushed with a tiny smile and kept her gaze on her pet. "Goes to show to never judge a book by its cover."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, grinning. Then his face became sober from contentment and Hermione was able to catch the look of remorse that fell upon his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked tentatively, moving forward to be perched on the edge of her bed. She let Crookshanks rest on her lap, the furry animal becoming a curled ball with his tail swishing indolently.

"You're right about that," Harry murmured. "About judging one's cover, I mean."

Hermione did not speak, wanting him to clarify. Her eyes were attentive but the rest of her face was placid as she kept stroking Crookshanks.

"I shouldn't have gotten mad at you for the whole Firebolt incident," he said. He prevented himself from looking up at her as he spoke, "Especially when you were just trying to protect me."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, that's-"

"It's not fine," Harry interrupted briskly. "I should have known better. And what's worse is I let Ron's words get to me too. I'm sorry."

"Harry," Hermione sighed tiredly, although she seemed overjoyed by his apology. She placed her hand on his that is still stroking Crookshanks' chin and caressed his knuckles with her fingertips as she looked up at him. "It's all in the past. It's over with."

Harry finally looked up at her with guilt striking off from his two green emeralds. "But Hermione…still…"

"It's over with," said Hermione, waving him off. "Besides, we're all here now – together."

Harry opened his mouth to continued protesting but then he saw the pleading eyes Hermione was shining at him and he reluctantly closed it with a deep sigh. Older Harry knew that Younger Harry knew he had no chance to debate against Hermione and her stubborn ways. He went back to scratching the mewling cat's chin in silence, listening to him purring to his approved touches.

"I really did miss you," Harry admitted in a low voice. "It felt weird not talking to you."

Hermione smirked. "I know."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"Because, even though you don't admit it, I know you love hearing me nagging on you to do your essays and such," Hermione said, making Harry laugh lowly. "And sometimes I would notice you looking at me when I'm doing my assignments."

"You did?" Harry's eyes widen in surprise.

"Of course," Hermione replied in false arrogance. "You're not exactly discreet. At least not to me."

"I guess I'll have to work on my stealth," Harry retorted, rolling his eyes. The smile on his face assured Hermione that he was more amused than annoyed.

"You really do," said Hermione with a light giggle. Then her laughter reduced into a soft smile while she scraped her nails across Crookshanks' scalp and he leaned into her hand in pleasure. "Also because I missed you too. You and Ron."

Harry's smile turned sober from happiness and crystallized into a palpable relief. Clearly, he was glad to have his best friend back in his life as well as she is too. A life without a girl like Hermione seemed dull and vacuous without her constant concerning over his health, his grades, and his whereabouts, and now that he had a taste on what his life is like without her around, he did not want to go back.

Another snore rattling out from Ron; both Harry and Hermione laughed at the noise, attempting to muffle out their sounds with their hands but no avail. Then a croaked meow came from Crookshanks as he wiggled his way out of Hermione's grasp to be able to hop onto Harry's lap, press his paws into his thighs, and he twirled up into a ball again, purring lightly in content.

"It seems he likes you," Hermione said, astonished.

"Seems like it," Harry agreed laughingly, tentatively stroking the cat's head. "He is kind of cute at a certain angle and when he's in a good mood."

Crookshanks snapped his head up at Harry, making him pull his hand back, his yellow eyes glowering in a near golden color before he jumped off his lap and back towards Hermione's, promptly returning to his previous position.

"Guess I spoke too soon," Harry said, confused.

Hermione giggled. "He doesn't like being called cute – he finds it offensive. The first time I called him that he wouldn't come to me whenever I called him. Truthfully, I think he's being sensitive."

Crookshanks' response was to send her the same glare he had given to Harry.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Hermione retorted haughtily. "I'm the one who fills your bowl every day, mind you."

Crookshanks lets out a low meow that sounded close to a growl before he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

"Blackmailing an animal with food for affection," Harry chuckled. "That's low, Hermione."

"That's not blackmailing," Hermione said, stuttering. "That's negotiation."

"Haha, really?" Harry laughed, shaking his head. "You would call it that."

"Well, blackmailing is a strong word," Hermione pointed out with a shrug. "How would you feel if I use that to describe the many times you try to convince me to help you with your homework."

"I'd consider it as charms."

"Charms? Really?"

"Of course. I use my charms to dazzle you into helping me. What else would make you want to help me?"

Hermione did not reply. Which is odd coming from her, Older Harry thought. She always had something to say. But instead she glanced out of the window where Older Harry can see her cheeks colored red under the glow of the moon. He turned to his younger self and he seemed like he was worried about her sudden silence. He was about to open his mouth when she spoke again.

"You do have a certain charm, Harry, I don't deny that," Hermione murmured so softly that she nearly sounded inaudible. Then she turned to him with a sly smirk. "But not enough to trick me."

Younger Harry laughed but it was cut short by Hermione hushing him quiet. He looked at her intuitively until she gestured a hand to where Ron was sleeping and then nodded.

"I should apologize too," Hermione said. "About the Firebolt, I mean. I shouldn't have just told Professor McGonagall about it without talking to you first. That was my mistake. But I won't apologize for trying to keep you safe. If things hadn't turned out the way they did tonight and Sirius had been someone who was out to get you, it would have killed me to know there was something I could have done to prevent anything awful from happening to you but didn't do it. I don't think the guilt would ever die down."

Younger Harry gawked at her confession, but deep down, Older Harry knew he was genuinely grateful and pleased to see how much she cared about him and he had realized how far she was willing to make sure he stayed alive even if it meant costing their friendship because it would let her be at ease to know he was well in the end.

Younger Harry closed his mouth and shook his head. "Forget about it. It's all in the past, right?"

"Still," she said. "I don't want you to think you're the only one to blame. We both are – we both did mistakes. I didn't want to not say anything on my part. It'd seem rather unfair."

"Don't worry about it," said Harry. "It's over with."

Hermione nodded in agreement. They sat quietly, basking in their newly reformed friendship, with Crookshanks' gently purring rumbling into the silence surrounding them. Hermione kept stroking the feline's fur while Harry glanced out of the window with a longing gaze, his eyes glistening hopefully into the darkness of the forest in view. Hermione caught his stare and looked out of the window also with a knowing glint in her eyes, her hand never stopping on scratching her cat.

"You'll see him again," she said sincerely, never looking at him even as he turned to her. "I doubt now he knows you know he's your godfather that he'll stay away. He will want to be around often to make up for the twelve years he's missed of your life. Especially when he knows you're stuck with the Dursleys. He wouldn't want to miss more of it."

Younger and Older Harry shared the same lopsided smile of appreciation towards her words. She always did seem to know what he is thinking even when he wanted to keep it a secret and when he is able to hide something from others, she seems to know he has something on his mind whether she knew what it is or not.

"The feeling is mutual," said Younger Harry, turning back to the sight beyond the window glass. "I just can't wait to see what it'd be like. Unfortunately I have to until his innocence is proven."

"Then the wait will be worth it in the end."

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched. "When you put it like that…" he trailed off. Older Harry saw Hermione glance at his younger self briefly before she began to move on her bed, the movement causing Crookshanks to hiss at her heatedly as he jumped off her lap angrily.

"We should go back to sleep before Madam Pomfrey sees us," she said as she fluffed her lumpy pillow and slides under the sheets whilst she laid down her head. Crookshanks, who seemed to quickly dim down his recently rage, came to lie on her stomach, with his tail fluttering over her face.

Harry nodded before he wordlessly repeated her actions and, as soon he was about to take off his glasses, he looked at Hermione again for a moment, taking in the way how the sheets brunched up as she curled into a small ball to the side, ignoring the annoyed hisses coming from Crookshanks. Older Harry was also watching in fascination at how childlike Hermione seemed when getting ready to sleep; she looked like an infant feeling welcomed to a new world and was embracing the warmth of a new home. Most of it had to do with the baby face features she will grow out later in the years but the posture made her seem innocent and fragile that made him questioned how she was able to handle to what will come her way.

"Hermione?"

The brunette witch opened her eyes curiously at the dark haired wizard across from her and Younger Harry cleared his suddenly dry throat from lump that had gotten clogged inside before he spoke clearly.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for everything, I mean. I really do appreciate it."

A fond smile broke out on Hermione's tired features, touched by his sincerity and truthful demeanor. She slipped an arm out from under her bed sheets and held out her hand to him. Younger Harry curiously stretched out his but the distance was farther than it seemed and they settled in entwining their index and middle fingers together in a tight lock. Older Harry's eyes were focused on them.

"No need to thank me, Harry," Hermione responded. "I'll always be there for you, no matter what."

Older Harry did not need to look to know that his younger self was sending Hermione a smile; he was engrossed on their tangled fingers in the middle. The way how their arms were limply laying out in the air but the tightness of their fingers formed in a knot resembled a kind of a symbol. A promise among them. It was a sign to how strong their friendship had gotten in three years and how much it will grow later on. It was the tie that will never come undone through the many pulls and tugs they will receive from the obstacles coming their way. It was a mockery to those who looked down upon their relation with her being a Muggle-born and him only a Half-blood. This was the face of who they are.

Friendship…

…bravery…

….and love…

That was Hermione's silent promise to him. And she never broke it.

* * *

"Chief?"

A deep voice was calling out to him but it sounded so far away.

"Chief?"

It sounded like it was coming closer now, like it was right next to him.

"Chief!"

Harry blinked his eyes to regain his focus, shaking his head momentarily to clear off the fog in his mind. Once he was sure, he looked around the area he stood in; elegant paintings framed on the stainless white wall, expensive furniture, self-portraits, and various cabinets full of liquor. There were several members of the Magical Law Enforcement scattering around the house, looking for any clues or evidence for their special skills while professionally speaking to the other. He looked down at his feet where he saw the body of Galvin Gudgeon was splayed at with a white enchantment glowing out the outline of his figure, his eyes open and wide but vacant of life.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and he peered at the corner of his eyes to see his second-in-command, Arnold Grumps, staring at him worriedly but also shamefully.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I spaced out for a minute." Harry nodded before he looked back down at Galvin. Prior to his return from Ginny's work, he had gotten the news about the discover of Galvin's death and he immediately arrived at the scene discreetly to not alarm the radar of the media. He already had them on his trail for Amycus being in disguise and he did not need them to read into the murder of a famous athlete being unknown for a long time.

"What's the verdict?" Harry questioned as he carefully stepped around the body, reaching inside his pocket to pull out a set of latex gloves given to him on his arrival, and then slipped them on while he kneeled by Galvin's motionless head.

"Killing Curse," Arnold replied. "Traces lead straight Jugson's wand."

"That much is obvious," Harry said, carefully taking Galvin by the chin and turning it to the sides for a better angle, searching for any visible evidence. "How far you think he had been this way?"

"Cornell identified him not too long ago," Arnold responded. "No more than four weeks, sir."

Harry straightened onto his feet. "Seems to have been a clean and simple kill. No signs of Unlocking Spell on the doors or windows – no signs of a struggle or physical assault anywhere – Jugson must have been invited in."

"Why would Gudgeon invite in someone like Jugson? More importantly why invite a criminal in anyway?"

"Who knows," Harry shrugged. "Whatever his reason was, it cost him his life in the end. No doubt, Jugson killed him to gain his identity but the question is why him? A public figure out of millions to choose from. He could have chosen to be a local like Carrow did with Charlie Twan but instead he chose Gudgeon. It doesn't make sense."

"Perhaps he heard about Carrow being arrested and decided to switch up?" Arnold guessed. "But then that would be a problem. If it's true then who knows how many people he's killed."

"Don't jump to conclusions yet, Grumps," Harry said, glancing around the room. "The bloke is ruthless, not reckless. Even he isn't daft to kill many in the same area withowithout someone reporting in the murder. No, this is his first victim in Britain. And with the way how he was able to do this for so long, he had planned it thoroughly – Silencing Charm and Killing Curse. Clever."

Arnold knitted his brows together. "How can you tell all of this just by looking around, sir?"

"I said he wasn't reckless but I never said he was intelligent. His biggest flaw was stating the obvious how he did all of this – Silencing Charm is used so the other flat residents wouldn't hear the kill and come check it out. But the smartest was to make it hard to figure out his motives. Which brings to our last question; why Galvin Gudgeon?"

"I don't know," Arnold shook his head.

Harry sighed deeply as he slipped the gloves off and tossed them inside a bag nearby a small table. He ran his fingers through his dark hair as he stuffed his other hand in his pocket, scrutinizing the lifeless form of the famously know Quidditch player before him. So many thoughts ran through his head of Jugson's reasons but he could not seem to keep collected enough to come up with a conclusion. All the Death Eaters, aside from Yaxley, are suddenly appearing one by one almost as if they want to get caught by him and he was not sure if he should be relieved by it or worried. It all seemed to peculiar to him now.

"How long will it be till they move him?" Harry asked.

"Not too long," Arnold said. "I'd give them five minutes, tops."

"Cleaners?"

"Same."

"Alright," Harry breathed. "As soon as possible, I want this body in examination and all evidence found in forensics. There's got to be more than the Killing Curse here. Also I want you to get the Investigation Department to track down all of Jugson's whereabouts as Gudgeon – every store he went to – every object he bought – or every person he talked to – I want them in that interrogation room on the spot."

"Yes, sir. And what are you planning to do in the meantime?"

His thoughts went back to his discussion with Ginny earlier and how it was left unresolved.

"I got some family business to attend to," he replied casually.

"Alright. I'll take things from here. If anything comes up, I'll owl or Floo you."

"Appreciate it." Harry said. He gave him a quick smile before he disapparated.

* * *

When he got back to the Ministry, he had gotten back to his car he left parked by the alleyway and drove to the local grocery store not too far from where he was at. From there, he was migrating the aisles, crossing off the mental list he made up and getting a bit frustrated with the store's spontaneous modeling job, which made it difficult for him to find anything.

During the time he had spent at the crime scene in Gudgeon's apartment, his mind kept reverting back to Ginny and how defeated she seemed at the very sight his presence, almost like she was dreading him at the moment. He remembered the feeling of discomfort and disappointment in himself for making her act in such a way towards him because he knows he is the reason why and his efforts were pitiful. It felt foreign to him to make her feel anything but happiness and contentment ever since they had gotten romantically involved. He did not want it to happen again, he did not want them to be like this again. It felt horrible to be distant with someone he had been with for so long over a couple of words on a piece of paper.

Harry decided to change their traditional day. On their wedding anniversary, he and Ginny would take the kids out with them as a family day to the same park where they all took their first steps, said their first words, and they would spend the evening reminiscing together, no calling work or receiving calls from work allowed. Their anniversary is many months away from now but he chose to use today as a way to gain her forgiveness by having the afternoon to themselves while Lily stayed with Molly Weasley's the Weasley residence in the meantime. He would have to remember to send an owl to her explaining their absence.

He figured it was best that he did not come to family dinner night for a while also until the tension of the article died down. He can already see how tough it will be for everyone to seem normal when there was a struggle going on. George will probably try to redirect the attention away with something humorous and Angelina will follow his leads if it seems to be working or the kid's wild antics would suffice the night. Ron will try to act like nothing is wrong but there is surely a raging monster inside him trying to claw its way out and demand the truth from him or Hermione. And Molly will be speaking Ron's mind freely, as she is his mother first before she is his or Hermione's in-law, which may end the night with her and Carol having a strong argument.

He remembered the way Hermione's mother reacted when she learned how Mrs. Weasley treated Hermione after the wretched article of her being a scarlet woman to him and Viktor Krum abck in fourth year. He had been there long enough to see that a grizzly bear is actually much more tamed than they seem in comparison to the wrath of a Granger woman. Facing the Dementor's kiss seemed much more heavenly than her voice of vocabulary. And a burned face looked smooth and flawless in contrast to the red face of rage of Carol Granger's. He can see why Hermione is always walking around with such confidence in her step; she knew she has the anger that could turn a man into a woman if the wrong buttons in her were pushed or if someone went past her tolerance level.

Draco Malfoy was one of the many who got a taste of it.

Harry smiled at that memory – that was a good moment. Then he frowned as he thought about the family dinner. If Molly chose to speak about the article like he feared in defense to her son and says the wrong thing about Hermione's lifestyle then Carol will step up to the plate like she is expected to for her daughter and that may cost a rift between both families. Weasleys stick together through anything no matter who it is as well as the Grangers. He did not want to be caught in the middle to choose between his best friends again. He had gone through that in his Hogwarts years but he was not certain he can go as far as to choosing between the two families who had given him a piece of paradise when he needed it.

He cringed at the possibility. Ron and Hermione's marriage will not make amends between the families like their relationship did after Carol's outburst towards Molly.

Pushing his thoughts and dilemmas out, Harry eventually found his way out of the car and onto the pavement, collecting some of the grocery bags and carrying them to the front door. He greeted his neighbor, Ms. Withers, who was gardening her yard with her cat, Peppers, trying to capture a small bug flying around. He fumbled with his keys until they dropped on the porch with a clank. He cursed under his breath, about to drop the bags and receive the fallen keys when the front door flung open, revealing an amused yet curious Ginny Potter.

"Struggling there?" she asked, a comical expression on her face.

Harry stared at her in confusion for a second.

"What are you doing home? It's not six yet," he said, one of the bags slipping from his elbow. "Shite!" he muttered, trying to bend down and retrieve it while balancing the rest of the groceries.

"Sometimes I think you forget you're a wizard," Ginny mumbled through a sigh before relieving him of the collective weight he carried and walked inside the house.

Harry quickly picked up his keys then followed her inside the house, kicking the door closed, and walked into the kitchen where he sees her place the bags on the counter. He stood by the door with raised eyebrows, scratching his head out of perplexity. Ginny must have noticed his jumbled mind because she pursed her lips.

"We have a family supper tonight," she answered nonchalantly. "Or did you forget?"

"No, I remember," Harry stared to say in his defense. "But you don't usually leave work early since supper starts at seven."

Ginny shrugged. "Decided to take an early leave. Not much to do after the meeting since I finished my article."

"Oh."

"I'm going to take a shower," Ginny said, already making her way out of the kitchen, her long red hair sway over the middle of her back. "Lily is already at Ron's place by the way," she added. She was already stepping her foot across the doorway.

"Ginny!" Harry called out to her. He can feel himself become stiff as she whirled around on his call but he breathed deeply. "Actually, I was thinking today we shouldn't go."

"Why?"

"I actually have something planned for us," he said. He had chosen to go through the grocery bags and putting away the items that needed refrigeration while he left the ingredients to the meal he had in mind. "I was planning to owl them we can't come. They can keep Lily."

"A plan for what?" Ginny questioned.

"Why don't you just go get freshened up?" he said instead. "I'll take care of the rest."

"Alright," said Ginny with such hesitance, her brows furrowed. "What do you have up in your sleeve Mr. Potter?"

"Just go," Harry urged, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, okay," Ginny said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'm going."

He glanced over his shoulder to see his wife walk out of the kitchen, hearing her footsteps ascending up the staircase and across the wood floor of the second floor. A moment later the droplets of running water was heard as the shower turned on. He quickly went to write the letter to Molly and then to begin preparing the meal he had in his mind.

* * *

He looked at Ginny to make sure that the bandanna he had securely wrapped around her eyes was still intact after they finished apparating, hoping that the force of the air tube hadn't given her a glimpse on where they are. But he can see that it hadn't. Yet he wondered if she already knew where he had taken her the moment their feet landed because with the feel of the ground beneath his feet felt too familiar and he was sure he would have recognized him if he was blinded. He locked their hands together and led her forward, the basket in his other hand swaying along with his steps.

"I feel like I'm being kidnapped," Ginny said jokingly.

"Maybe you are," Harry grinned slyly. "That might have been my plan all along."

Ginny snorted. "As if you're capable of such a crime. Though it might make millions on the papers. _Respected Auror takes known journalist by force_ – there would be a field day."

Harry laughed at her sarcasm. He had missed seeing this side of her because it was one of the many reasons why he found her charming. He wondered if he really had lacked his attention on her all this time like she said if he had missed it.

"Seriously, where are we?" Ginny asked calmly but he heard how the tone wavered.

Harry smirked when he caught the eagerness, knowing that she was actually getting ecstatic. He knew that she cannot resist wanting to know. He looked around the area, taking in the grassy field, the oaky trees, the sound of a child's laughter, and the idle chatter of the people passing by them. Everything looked the same as it did many years ago which made it even more perfect for his surprise. He never released his grasp on her as he led her to the thin foot trail with a small wooden marker, and guided her through the shield of fallen leaves.

"It's a surprise," he said mysteriously, giving her hand a light squeeze. He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss on her temple and then pulled back. "You'll love it."

He saw her cheeks flush before she looked down and he smiled at her tenderly. Seeing those rosy patches brought a leap inside his chest to know it was because of him that she is becoming timid and he found it twice more attractive than he did the first time. He felt like he was watching it the first time again.

It was warmer now than he remembered it was. He was glad he had decided to have them wear light clothes. The open field they had appeared in was already invisible to him as they walked deeper into the forest, the only sound heard is the snaps of twigs they step on, the pebbles they kick clashing together, and the cries of birds hovering over them.

The trail faded then, a fallen tree rested on the trunk of her sisters, creating a little shelter hovered just a few feet off the trail. Harry made sure that neither of their clothes got caught by any part of the tree as he helped Ginny step over the ferns and that is when he finally saw it; a bright sparkling glow that shined out its pool of golden excellence. He turned to Ginny, who was standing still in incredible patient, walked behind her, and then undid the knot on her head, slowly pulling the red cloth from her eyes.

"Finally! I thought-" Ginny paused once her eyes spotted the same radiance of light and Harry grinned widely at her reaction. He did not stop her as she moved forward hastily, the growth of her eagerness shown in every step. He followed her lead.

They reached the edge of the pool and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place they had seen again.

It was a meadow that was twice as big as a football stadium, perfectly found, and filled with wildflowers – soft white, pure violet, and sunshine yellow. The sun was directly overhead, filling the leafy bowl with buttery light. Harry stood beneath the edge of shadow, the basket tightly in his hand, while watching Ginny walk slowly, awestruck, into the view of gentle grass, swaying flowers, and warm, glided air.

"Harry," she gasped out. "This place – it's where-"

"Where I proposed to you," he finished.

The day he proposed to her, he had wanted to do more than a simple fancy night out with dinner and a walk in a plain park, but he did not know what could be considered spectacular for Ginny. He had gone to Arthur Weasley for a word of advice because he was the only one he had trusted to not spill out hints on his attempt to ask for Ginny's hand in marriage. Mrs. Weasley would have accidentally blurted it out, Ron would have given Ginny not-so-subtle clues, George would have rushed to him to ask him loudly for confirmation whether he was with Ginny or not, and Hermione would have teased him enough to just make him want to drop on his knees and ask her to be his wife on the spot. But Arthur told him to go international and he did.

He had chosen to go to Hermione's father, Aegeus Granger, because he needed the perspective of a Muggle. He did not know anything about the world outside of Britain until he became an official Auror and had mission in the States. But Aegeus had traveled around the world from Florida to Tokyo then later to Afghanistan with his father before his passing and he was pleased to help a close friend of his daughter with romance. He had given him the idea to come to Central Park in New York City. Many marriage proposals occur mostly on the bridge or on a row boat in the lake but Harry had chosen to explore the area more.

Mr. Granger had searched a photo of the park in the internet for Harry to picture for apparation and once he had gotten to the place, he had stumbled in the small meadow he is standing in now. He had used a bit of magic to beautify it more, add a few lightning, and left a Wireless playing a Celestina Warbeck song requested by Molly Weasley. The date went perfect and the proposal was memorable.

"It's been a long time," Ginny said as Harry approached her. "A lot more flowers than last time we've been here."

"Nature's got to grow," Harry answered. He held up the basket in his hand. "Ready for a picnic?"

Ginny grinned and nodded.

* * *

The day with Ginny was nothing short of perfect. It was the best time, in a long time, that he could remember spending time with her. Sometime over the course of the day, whether it was while she was sneaking kisses during their munching on chocolate strawberries or pelting each other with grapes as they chased each other around the meadow, something inside of Harry changed. He had forgotten entirely about his struggles in England. He was reminded of the beginning of their relationship; carefree, forgetful of others, and simply magical. He was reminded of the charismatic person he would become because of Ginny's energetic attitude. He was reminded why he loved being around her. And he could not remember why they had been so distant. He could blame their jobs but he would find that as a poor excuse.

And he had forgotten about Hermione entirely and the complex desire he felt for her.

Harry felt that connection between them, the spark, that something that made him fall for her in the first place. He realized that he just needed a day like this one to clear his head, to make a decision to finally put everything behind him and focus on Ginny, on Lily, on James, on Albus, and his job only. He had been acting foolish and ridiculous, thinking that what he had felt towards Hermione could be love when he actually has it with Ginny. He knew it wasn't possible – she had been his best friend for twenty-six years and he had not felt any sorts of attraction towards her the entire time. He was just confused.

Today he finally got his head cleared.

Ginny has been telling him her latest trip to a Quidditch match when he found himself smiling and glanced down to find there was one strawberry in the almost empty Tupperware container. He went to grab it just as Ginny had the same mindset, their hands reaching in the middle. They pulled their hand away and laughed lightly.

"You want it?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, grinning. "I wouldn't have tried to take it if I didn't."

Harry shrugged and watched her closely as she reached for the red fruit. Once her fingertips touched it, his hand snatched it out from the container and teasingly held it in front of him, dangling it.

"You didn't think I was going to give it to you easily, did you?" he taunted, his eyes dancing with the thrill of tormenting her.

"Harry Potter," Ginny spat, trying to pretend she was angry, but Harry could hear she barely could stifle her laughter. "You better give me that strawberry unless you want me to hex you."

"Like you would hex a Head Auror," he scoffed. "Unless you have a life wish to live in Azkaban for harming an authority."

He tilted the strawberry closer to his mouth, inching it inside, but before he had a chance to take a bite, Ginny had shot herself forward and tried to grab the fruit out of his hand. He fought back, lifting his arms above his head and out of her reach, attempting to use his height as an advantage. Instead of success, however, his reckless movement had caused gravity to pull Ginny's down onto him, making her weight tumble his with hers. In one swift motion, he was planted firmly on his back with her helplessly lying on top of him. The strawberry fell out of his grasp during the fall and onto the muddy grass. They both looked at the now inedible fruit and broke out into an effortless laughter.

They laid there buried in their heavy laughter, barely able to breathe, with tears coming out of their eyes just like two little toddlers who had not a care in the world. He had not laughed like this in such a long time and it felt relaxing.

Just then, Harry became aware of the close proximity of Ginny's body on his. His laughter ceased and he found himself staring into a pair of pale blue eyes that belonged to the person who is truly responsible for his heart's desire. Ginny's giggling stopped as well and her face grew warm as she became fully aware of the new level of intimacy between them. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, run his fingers through her hair, and all around her body.

The scent of her hair, flowery like the field and natural like the trees, filled her senses. It was sweet and subtle, but it drove him erratic nonetheless. Lazily, he played with the strands of hair that had fallen over, covering their face like a screen separating them from the outside world, twirling them with his finger and wrapping them around.

Ginny seem to have the same idea as him; she lowered her head to his and placed her lips softly upon his. He refrained himself from holding her face in case she wanted to pull away. He let her kiss him, barely applying pressure, for only a second, before she began to draw back. He pushed himself up on his elbows to follow her. Their contact was only broken for a split second and he pressed his lips back to her with much appreciated eagerness. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist, resting his hands on the small of her back, and kissed her like he missed her because he did. He wanted to show her that she is his.

Harry flipped them over onto her back and held her against him with both arms, spreading his palms out across her back over the fabric of her shirt. Her hair splayed over the grass like a blazing flame and he breathed into her, their heartbeats matched, their breathing increasing in speed at an unsteady pace. He was having a hard time keeping all his instincts in bay. He kept reminding himself to remain gentle.

But she was making this difficult for him.

Her lips parted and his followed suit as her fingers fisted in his hair. He pulled her closer, pressing into her as hard as he could without crushing her. The back of his eyelids burned red and a weak whimper escaped from the depths of her throat. His tongue invaded inside her mouth without his control, the taste of her filling him, intoxicating his senses. He slipped one hand from beneath her to explore her front torso, teasing for a wanting reaction, and then began to work on undoing the buttons of her shirt, desperately wanting to feel fewer clothes on her.

After he managed to get her shirt off, leaving her in her lacy cream bra, his hand took the opportunity to explore her flat stomach. Her skin was scorching under his touch and her heart was forcefully pounding in its resting place. He lowered his lips to kiss the delicate spot below her ear that he knew would make her lose all common sense, earning a ragged gasp breathed into his ear, and then he ventured forward down to the base of her throat. He heard her mumble his name.

Harry lets out a growl; he wanted her badly now.

As he lowered his lips down to her chest, his hand trailed down from her stomach to the waist of her skirt and began to fiddle with the button, waiting for her reaction to his intentions.

Her response was pressed her lips against his ear and her hand travel down to the hem of his jeans, already unfastening the button then undoing the zipper.

He can assume that he had been forgiven.

* * *

That night, as Harry laid his head down on his pillow, hearing the water for Ginny's shower running steadily from down the hallway, he reflected over the events of the day and the laughs he shared with her. After their amorous act in the meadow, the timing had flown by, they had gone to the Weasley residence to pick up Lily but she had chosen to stay for the weekend, and the high of their day was still swarming in their veins that they allowed her last minute request. They had not seen Hermione or Ron during their visit but Harry was glad to see that there was no conflict occurring between the two families like he had feared and he had left the house with ease.

He heard the flow of the bathroom plumbing halt, a few sounds of shuffling, and then a door creaking open as footsteps thudded on the floorboards. A minute later, Ginny emerged, wearing her nightgown, still a bit moist from her bathe, her hair wrapped around by the blue towel. He watched her as she walked to her vanity, undo the towel to let her slightly damp hair to flutter across her back and over her shoulders, then she took her comb and began to brush through her knots.

"Today was fun," she said after a moment of silence. "I haven't had fun like that in a while."

"Me neither," he agreed.

"Why the sudden surprise picnic?" she asked curiously. "Were you that desperate for my forgiveness?"

"Yes," he answered honestly as he leaned back and closed his eyes. He can hear her place her brush back down on the vanity and then the mattress sunk down beside him as she slipped into the sheets. His chest thumped at the feeling of her drying hair tickling his skin as she rested her head on his torso, and he instinctively wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer to him.

"Well you've succeeded," she said jokingly, making Harry chuckle happily.

He buried his nose into her hair. "Good. I don't like you mad at me."

"Me neither," she repeated his words from earlier. She shifted her body closer to his, slinging a leg over his, and an arm over his stomach, as she nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry too. About the whole article – about you coming home late – and about Hermione."

"What was that about anyway?" he couldn't help asking. "It never bothered you before when I came home late from somewhere with Hermione."

Ginny lifted her head up from his neck, pushed herself up on her elbow, and looked down at him with an incredulously stare.

"You really don't get it, do you?" she questioned, confused laced in her words.

"No. Can you care to elaborate?"

"Come on, Harry, we've been married for ages now. You can't still be that thick when it comes to women."

"You'd be surprised," he mumbled.

Ginny sighed exasperatedly, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Seriously," she groaned. She removed her arm and leg from him to sit upright, leaning against the headboard. "I was jealous okay. Hermione had all your time and I didn't like it. I get that her father was in the hospital but to be there twenty-four-seven endlessly? That's too much."

"But Gin, this is Hermione we're talking about – one of my best friends," he said. _And also the woman you snogged, can't stop thinking about, and get jealous for whenever Ron does something for her_ , a small voice from the back of his mind countered snidely but he chose to ignore it.

"Best friend or not, darling, she's still a woman and you're still a man and both of you are married. There's a limit now to how much you should spend time with her," she pointed out. "Plus, don't you remember how we started? I was just a friend too and now look where we are."

"Gin," he sighed. Now he finally understood her reasons behind her anger towards him; she was worried that he might have feelings for Hermione, and, for a long period of time, he thought he did too, but today had helped him set everything straight with his boggling mind.

"I just want you to keep that in mind," she mumbled with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Ginny," he began. "Hermione and I – we've been best friends for a long time. Don't you think something would have happened if there was anything more? Yes, we're close but that's about it - I proposed to _you_ \- I'm married to _you_ \- and I have kids with _you_. If that's not enough then I don't know what can convince you there's nothing."

"I know," Ginny sighed then looked at him with imploring eyes. "Just try to be more considerate. I don't mind you being there for her but try to remember that you're not just a best friend anymore – you're a husband and father now."

Harry nodded. "I will."

Ginny smiled, a sight that brought Harry relief from the hard pressure formed in his chest during the whole conversation. She leaned over and pecked him on the lips before she turned to her side, using his arm as her pillow as she faced her back to him.

"Good night, darling."

"Good night," he said naturally.

A long minute passed. Harry listened to Ginny's steady breathing, sensed the beats of her heart, and shivers that traveled through the small hairs on her arms. He needed to sleep; he had to go to work for any follow-up reports, pick up Lily from the Weasley's, and then prepare dinner for the evening. But he couldn't find it in him to fall into a deep slumber like his wife did because his mind was wrapped up in the dull feeling in his chest that had bubbled up during their talk.

It was an unpleasant ache; it hurt him three times more than he thought possible. He could breathe but he hated himself for it. He was dreading his presence in the same room as his wife, like he felt out of place to have her in his arm – to be in the same bed as her – to be next to her – to be breathing the same air as her. He did not understand why he felt such a way when he was living in heaven for many hours.

Then he thought about the small voice he heard in his head and he knew what it was; betrayal. The words he told to Ginny were a betrayal to the truth he had buried from her, a betrayal to her faith in him. It was also a twist to his morals as a noble man, an example to his two grown boys for them to follow and one that his only daughter should look for. It pained him greatly to know he had become someone he had feared for Lily to meet, someone he despised his sons to become, and one that his wife did not deserve to be married to.

Harry laid a hand over his eyes as he let himself silently cry out his torture. He let himself cry for everything he had done to her, to his children, to their marriage, and to his family. He let himself cry to Hermione and to everything that she is going through because of her father, to the stresses she has hanging on her shoulders because of her job, her only daughter drifting away from her, her problems with Ron, and her struggles to try to be a good mother and wife while continuing with her career. Finally, he let himself cry for the secret he knew he would keep forever, the guilt he'd have to learn to protect the woman he loved dearly.

As the last teardrop fell on his face, he realized he was more than exhausted from the long day of mental and emotional roller coaster. He turned to Ginny, pressing his chest against her back, and laid an arm over her to pull her closer to him while he nuzzled his face into her already-dried hair, breathing in the flowery aroma he had fallen for years ago. He let himself drift to sleep in the heat of Ginerva Potter but he welcomed his dreams of grassy meadows and wildflowers, of a wedding robe and a bride that looked nothing of the woman he is originally wedded to, but rather, fair skinned English woman with chestnut hair tied in an elegant knot and melting chocolate eyes walking down to the end of the aisle with a different father to meet him.

* * *

Ginny chose to pick up Lily from the Weasley's house while he went to the Ministry to receive any new reports on Galvin Gudgeon's body before he went to buy the missing refreshments. He was calm to see that there were no lingering stares at his way or any soft murmurs of his name as he made his way inside the AD, glad to know that the news of a famous athlete's death has not been leaked out as the latest gossip of the Ministry.

When he made his way to his office, he can see that nearly half of the cubicles are empty. There are hardly any people on the weekend, especially during Quidditch season, and most of them are likely at home listening to the Sports Channel on the Wireless or waiting at the stadium for the upcoming match to begin. Harry can hope that he will be joining the party tonight during family dinner because he really needed up catch up on his Quidditch history of the season. His life had been consumed with the problems of his life that he hardly had time to hear or go to the matches.

He had just settled in sitting by his desk and go through the stack of folders that had presumably been left by Arnold, for he is the only one who has a copy of the key to his office, when he heard a gentle knock on the door. He peered up briefly to whoever entered his office to let them know he acknowledged their appearance, and he was about to turn his attention back down, but the glimpse of brown he saw had caught his attention.

"Hey," she greeted cheerily as she approached him at his desk and sat down on the chairs in front of him.

Harry became a stone the moment he saw Hermione. The outfit she was wearing spoke out who she is; a black and blue striped cap sleeve ruffle with a belt clasped around her waist, a pair of dark jeans, and matching ankle boots. She was wearing otter-shaped charm necklace again – she never seems to take it off now.

Harry cleared his throat before murmuring a quick, "Hey."

"I thought you'd take the weekend off, seeing as everyone is going completely nutters over the Quidditch matches," she said, leaning back into the chair with her arms crossed over her stomach and slinging one leg over the other.

Harry's eyebrows rose incredulously. "I didn't think you'd be up to date about Quidditch. Finally taken a fancy to it?"

"Oh, dear no," she laughed. "It was hard to not hear about it at supper yesterday. George and Ron certainly wouldn't shut up about it. Not to mention Lily and Hugo – they were the loudest when their favorite team scored. Don't even get me started how mad it became when the Snitch was finally caught."

"Who won the match?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Uh…something with tornadoes…"

"The Tutshill Tornados?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Are you serious?" Harry gawked at her in disbelief. "Who did they win against?"

"I don't know, Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wasn't really into it. I don't understand why everyone goes off their rocker for it."

Harry chuckled. "Maybe you picked the wrong people to be friends with."

"Most likely."

"Ouch," Harry said, creating a fake wince at her words, but he knew that she saw through his act with the way she laughed. "Quite blunt of you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Only with you, Mr. Potter," she answered truthfully.

Harry grinned. "So why are you here on this glorious weekend?"

"I'm not going to be here long," Hermione said. "I had one last appointment with Twinky before it was time to take her home with all the other elves. She recovered fully – thank Merlin for that – but we'd like to make sure she is stable enough to be around a crowd so we're taking her around soon. Also, I was requested by Kingsley for a counselor meeting and I got some reports on a centaur spotted in Ireland. Obliviation required and captivation of the centaur for violating regulations."

"Which regulation is that?"

"We have a steady system; every magical creature has their own territory with their kind around the world. Everything they need from food to activities to personal space is in there so it's basically their paradise and twice a week we take down the protective charms so they could explore more than their area if they have no intention of harming the ones less dangerous than them. Every magical creature exploring the new grounds needs to have two escorts with them to supervise them – unfortunately the centaur managed to break through the protective charms. Kat must have forgotten to amplify it this week. So now the centaur is roaming freely in the native woodlands – Forest Troll territory."

Harry grimaced. "What's the punishment for regulation violation?"

"Nothing serious," Hermione said. "Just chores."

"Chores?" Harry repeated.

"Yes, chores," Hermione nodded. "Simple stuff – plant more flowers – collect fruit for the infants – and a bit of paperwork here. They dread doing that last bit."

"You bring them here for paperwork?" Harry asked, silently thinking to himself, _Are you mad?_

"Don't worry, Head Auror," Hermione answered playfully. "They're quite tamed than people make them out to be. The majority of them are the wounded I helped heal back to health - some are the ones I gave a home to - and the others are the ones I took care of when they were babies. I have their trust so as long as I'm around they won't go mad or anything."

"That's…that's actually quite impressive," Harry said in awe. He had not felt this astonished about her since the day she had slapped Draco for calling Hagrid pathetic and then walking out of Divination Class. "A big step-up from S.P.E.W. too."

Hermione snorted. "My days of S.P.E.W. are far from over. I still work with them. Taking care of one house-elf at a time."

"Of course, you are," Harry smirked, shaking his head. He took out the recorded parchment from the folder and laid them in front of him on the desk. "Nice to know the system of the RCMCD is better than it used to be. Before it was just classifying how dangerous they are but now they can find a home where they won't be hunted down."

Hermione smiled, flattered by his indirect praise towards her success, and looked down at her lap. Harry went back to looking through the reports on Gudgeon, not really reading the information when all of his attention is still settled on the witch sitting on front of him.

"So why are you here on this glorious weekend?" Hermione repeated his words from before.

Harry's lips twitched. "I'm here on a case. Classified."

"Sure it is," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and Harry laughed. No matter whether it is meant only for the ears of the AD or between him and the Minister, he would always tell her about his cases and missions with her being persistent or not.

Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Yesterday, when I interrogated Carrow, he gave me a tip that Jugson has been impersonating as the Seeker of the Chudley Canons, Galvin Gudgeon, under Polyjuice Potion and we went to his flat yesterday to find him…dead."

Hermione gasped, raising one hand to her mouth in shock, and her eyes wide.

"It was a hunch I was hoping I was wrong on," Harry said. "But unfortunately he's found dead. Clean murder by the Killing Curse."

"But why him?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head. "That's what I'm trying to figure out right now. From what Carrow told me; Jugson is going to Montana as Gudgeon. I'm just trying to find out why he chose him in the first place."

Hermione stood up from the chair, stretching her arms over her head, and let out a tired groan. Harry quickly glanced down at his hands to prevent himself from looking at the thin strip of skin exposed when her blouse rose up a bit.

"I'll let you get to it then," she said nicely. "If you need any help with anything you know where to find me. I have to go and see what to do with the rogue centaur."

"Judging by your tone, I'm guessing it's not the first time this centaur went rogue," Harry retorted.

"I have no doubt it's Blue again," Hermione said flatly. "He's a troublemaker, that one. I think he does it just for attention. He is one of the many I took care as an infant."

Harry blinked. "You named a centaur Blue? Why?"

"It's his favorite color."

"Ah."

"I'll see you later, Harry."

Harry looked up to see Hermione step around the chair and she was walking towards the doorway, her curls bouncing along with the rhythm of her steps over her back. He felt an odd vibe surfacing from her that literally screamed at him to ask her to stay, like she did not want to leave. It could be his mind just doing tricks on him but normally the hairs on his arm would tingle if it is an instinct of his having a reaction to what is not heard or seen, and he can clearly tell that Hermione was not being clear to him. He thought about the previous day, about the family dinner. What could have possibly transpired during his absence?

"Hermione?" Her name escaped from his mouth before he could stop himself. He held a breath as she turned to face him, stopping at the doorway with one hand on the frame, and a curious expression. His eyes gazed at her as he subconsciously rose from his

"What is it?"

Harry just stared at her. He opened his mouth to say something, anything. Then he closed it. Hermione stayed standing by the door, patiently waiting. He scratched his neck uncomfortably while he pursed his lips.

"Have you and – have you been able to talk to Ron?" he asked hesitantly, the topic of his best friend leaving a forbidden taste in his mouth.

Then Hermione's cheerful demeanor seem to fade away as she let her head drop between her shoulders, her curls leaning over her face. She took a long while to look back up to him, a frown carved into the false happy features she had been wearing earlier, and the emotion that held in it seem to appear stronger in her eyes.

"Rotten luck?" he inquired.

Hermione released a breath as she stepped deeper inside the office, pushing the door closed behind her, then approached Harry at his desk again. Harry pulled out his wand and, with a flick, casted the Silencing Charm to the door, before he went around his desk to stand in front of her, putting the wand back in his sleeve. He can see Hermione fiddling with the buckle of her belt, keeping her eyes from meeting with his concern emeralds.

"I tried to talk to him about it while he cooked supper but he said he didn't feel like talking about it, that he was too tired," she said softly. "I tried being persistent about in a more calmer approach because I really wanted to fix it but it didn't turn out so well. I should have just left him alone."

Harry frowned. "Another row?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. She finally met his eyes, her brown ones clouded with a somber fog. "Harry, it has gotten so bad that Hugo already knows when he should go to his room. Of course, he took Lily with him. Poor kids wouldn't come out until George came."

"Was it that loud?"

"That's the thing, we weren't loud, just the opposite really," Hermione said. "But when Hugo came in the middle of it, he already knew something was wrong just by looking at us. It's become such a routine that our child is accustomed to it."

Harry didn't say anything. She usually had a tendency to rambling when she is upset, worried, or angered, and he knew that she was not done yet.

"I feel like I'm losing my son now," she continued. "I feel like the drift between me and Rose is happening now with me and Hugo. He didn't even want me to read him his favorite book for bedtime – he just went straight to bed. He even had a nightmare of ghosts invading his room and he only wanted Ron there, not me." She bit her lip. "I guess I really am a horrible mother, aren't I?"

Harry stared at her, shaken by the disappointment and dejected way she asked him that. It wasn't like Hermione to be so negative about the situations she is in; she usually faced them through the obstacles and tumbles until it is solved even when it seemed impossible and out of reach. But this was her family on the line – her relationship with her children was slowly dying – her marriage with her husband seem to be crumbling – and she seem to be losing her sanity over the fact the longer she tried to make it better.

"Hermione-"

"Did everything work out between you and Ginny?" she interrupted abruptly.

Harry's lip curled downwards but he nodded.

"That's good. I'm glad. Whatever you did better be worth it – we all missed you yesterday."

Harry felt she was only telling him half a lie. Although he was positive that Molly, Arthur, George, Angelina, and the kids are the ones who wished he and Ginny were there to complete the family circle, he knew that Ron had mixed emotions on his absence rather than his sister's. Yet the way Hermione said that made him feel like he had failed her, somehow, for not being there with her when she and him are the ones targeted as a horrid scandal rumor. He felt like she was telling him she wished he had been there with her through the night, to be by her side and face what would have been thrown at them together like they always did for years. He was getting the hidden message that she had missed him but he could be misreading it easily.

"Are you coming tonight?" he asked tentatively, staring at her intently. "It's our turn, isn't it?"

Hermione gave him a slight smile. "Most definitely," she said. "Your cooking is irresistible. I don't think we can stay away if we tried."

Harry lets out a small, weak laugh. There was a sullen atmosphere among them but her compliment to his culinary skills was quite flattering. Then he gazed directly into her eyes as his facial feature harden from all peace yet soften into a comforting mask.

"You're not a horrible mother, Mione," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words. "You said it yourself; you're working hard to make sure it's safe enough for your kids. The Death Trials become more time consuming with every fugitive we capture and it gets harder like the Rowle case. Every Death Eater and Snatcher will try everything they can to not get sent to Azkaban which means you have to come back twice as hard to make sure they are guilty. Also you need to make sure everything with the magical creatures stay in order – Ron needs to remember the purpose of your position too."

Hermione's stare at him started to change drastically from curious to admirable and Harry was glad to see a spark of life bright up in them. He reached across to take her hands in his, gently running his thumbs over her knuckles. He tried to ignore how tender and warm her fingers felt on his palms and to fight down the heat rising up in his cheeks by the simple touch.

"I know you want to go home and be the mother Hugo and Rose miss and to be a devoted wife to Ron – I want that for you too. I wish I can just make all of the those bloody fugitives appear with my wand so we can be done with the hunting and the trials but even being Head Auror can't do the impossible," he snorted. "It's hard, I know, with your family struggles and your stress at work but just know it's worth it in the end, you know. To know Hugo, Rose, Lily, James, Albus, and the others will be safe because you're the reason there's not more dark wizards or witches roaming free. That's why you're working hard and when this is all over – when all of the Death Eaters and Snatchers are behind bars – everything will go back to normal. You'll be the mother you want to be and be recommitted to Ron again."

Hermione was now smiling at him fondly, a twinkle of adoration in her eyes. Harry returned her smile and tightened his grasp on her hands. He thought back to the words of encouragement she had given to him in first year.

"You'll be okay, Hermione," he said softly. "You're a great witch, you really are."

Hermione grinned, recognizing the similarity of his choice of words, and slipped one hand from his grasp to gingerly touch the otter-shaped charm around her neck. Harry was momentarily enchanted how smooth her fingers seem with the marble charm. Then he started as she flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered into his ear.

"A-anytime," Harry stammered. The feeling of her breath tickling his ear was making his back rippling in shivers down on his spine, goose bumps rising on his arms, the beats of his heart to accelerate twice its pace, and his lungs throb as he tried to hold in his breath.

"Seriously, thank you," she said as she slipped away from him, leaving her hands on his forearms.

Harry nodded, a bit flustered. He felt a vibration in his chest with the way she looked at him appreciatively, a sensation he could not identify specifically. His stomach churned and twisted at her smile. His eyes wandered down to her curled lips without realization; the night of their unfaithful kiss flooded into his mind, the feelings burned inside him, the confusion sparked within him, and the uncontrollable desire towards her came back.

Hermione pulled her hand back. "I should get going and let you do your business."

"Yeah."

Hermione gave him a light squeeze on his arm before she turned and walked out of the office without another glance. After the click of the door was heard, Harry released the air he had been holding in and slumped back against the desk, clutching the edge with his hands tightly while he tried to maintain his breath steady and maintain balance in his weakened knees.

 _What's wrong with me?_ Harry groaned inwardly. He could not find a good explanation why he suddenly went back to how he felt when many hours ago he had a straight and clear mind on the whole situation with Ginny. But, being close to Hermione, the way how glorious the flesh of her lips looked when she smiled, and the way how her body felt leaning against his during the hug, he found the desire he thought he buried to resurface in an instant. The impact of the comeback was stronger; he could barely stand.

Using the desk as support, Harry walked around his desk with wobbling legs and dropped onto his chair. He pushed back his raging emotions to continue with his review on his daily reports. He shuffled through the papers mindlessly, barely reading the information, but he was able to catch vital importance that seem to connect to Gudgeon; he was seen in sight in Knockturn Alley, purchasing items inside Mr. Mulepper's Apothecary, Potage's Cauldron Shop, and Shyverwretch's Venoms and Poisons. He brought up the list of items that the vendors told the Aurors what Gudgeon had bought.

 **MR. MULEPPER'S APOTHECARY:**

1\. Ashwinder eggs

2\. Rose thorns

3\. Peppermint

4\. Moonstone

 **POTAGE'S CAULDRON SHOP:**

1\. Customized Pewter Cauldron; Size 8

 **SHYVERWRETCH'S VENOMS AND POISONS:**

1\. Cholinesterase

2\. Polypeptide toxins

3\. Tetrodotoxin

4\. Polonium

Harry looked through the other papers; he found one of a statement from the owner of the pub, The White Wyvern, saying that he remembered seeing Gudgeon speaking to a dark figure with a cloak on and exchanging trades for a matured Mandrake. He was able to identify the figure when they lowered their hood as the local dealer, Serena Clad. She had been in hiding from the authorities for months ever since she had been reported for selling contrabands to young wizards and witches by a parent. Harry would have to remember to send an Auror to Knockturn Alley for her.

"Ms. Vane!" he called out.

The door was pushed open and Romilda was seen strutting in with three inch heels that seemed painfully uncomfortable to Harry. She had a coy smile, pleased to be called out by him.

"Yes sir?" she asked too sweetly. "How can I help you?"

"You were a decent student in Potions class at Hogwarts, yeah?"

"I was known as the fourth best student, yes."

"Then do you think you can tell me what kind of potions can be brewed by these?" Harry asked as he held out the sheet towards her.

Romilda, although confused and curious, took the sheet and began to read the materials listed. Harry watched her cordially, tapping his fingers on the desk, his leg shaking under his desk, and lightly biting his tongue. After a minute, Romilda turned to him.

"I can tell you that the first four are ingredients to make Amortentia," she said, handing the sheet back to Harry. "I never heard of a potion that require the last four. But I know they are from snake venom. Cholinesterase attacks the nervous system – Polypeptide disrupts the nerve-impulse transmission, causing heart and respiratory failure. But Tetrodotoxin is a poison that can be found in of a pufferfish and Polonium is another poison that is very rare to find. Last time I heard, it hasn't been found since the twentienth century."

"I see," Harry mumbled. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Vane. That'll be all."

"Let me know if you need anything else, sir," Romilda said with an inviting smile before she turned on her heels and left the office.

Harry read over the list again. He can see now why Jugson had chosen Gudgeon as his victim of disguise; the Quidditch Seeker had connections to the local drug dealer and had enough money to buy the ingredients. But he cannot understand why he would want to brew up a batch of Amortentia or why he bought the venoms and poisons. Was it to cause infatuation to a woman or a ploy to set up another kill? The shop owners in Knockturn Alley would not care enough to want to know why because they are only focused on making a sale.

 _He told me he was going to Montana for a meeting with one of our own_. He remembered Amycus telling him. He had a hunch that the anonymous person in Montana could possibly be Yaxley. He had not heard any news about the wanted wizard for a long period of time. He did not set his hopes on high but he was almost positive that he could be the unknown person that Jugson is traveling to. He hoped that his assumption is correct. He had not forgotten the injury he had caused to Ron and he wanted to make him face the consequences of maiming his best friend brutally. He longed for the day he can finally duel Yaxley.

Balling his hand up into a tight, shaking fist, Harry stood from his chair and made his way out of the office to talk to Arnold about setting up a mission trip to Montana. If Yaxley is waiting for Jugson then he wants to be the person to intercept the meeting personally and arrest him with his own hands to finally feel at peace to know his private hunt for the Death Eater is over. He did not know how long he would be staying in Montana, depending on the search for Jugson in several areas, he just knew that he would do anything and everything in his power to send him to Azkaban.

* * *

Hours later, Harry found himself in the kitchen preparing Chicken Cordon Bleu while Ginny . The Wireless was set on the island counter playing the Weird Sisters' popular single, _Do the Hippogriff_ , the volume somewhat low and the sound of the song brought him back to the time the Yule Ball had taken place in his fourth year. Many occurrences had happened on that one night from being shocked to seeing a whole new and beautiful side of Hermione – to him opening the ball with Pavarti – to Ron being sour and jealous about Hermione coming to the ball with Viktor – to him witnessing a vague conversation between Snape and Igor. It was his first school dance but he did not enjoy it as much, frankly because the date he wanted was to be Cho Chang and because he is not entirely accustomed to social events like a ball. He still isn't but he is able to tolerate it more for the sake of others.

Ginny was very chatty that evening. She had gone back to her carefree and laidback ways and had filled any void of silence with talks about the Quidditch match she is anticipating to hear about, how her brother's shop has become outstanding through the years, her plans she made with her mother, and about the kids. Harry liked these moments when he did not have to talk often and an occasional grunt was enough of a response to her.

Hermione and Ron hadn't arrived yet with the children and Harry tried to keep a calm mind on their tardiness. He prayed that they did not have another fight or the night could already be considered ruined by the looming frustration between his best friends. Harry did not think too much about it as he sprinkled the chicken breast on both sides with salt and pepper, some of them falling on the floor. He would make sure to use a spell for it later. Beside him, Ginny was stirring the batter for the chocolate sponge cake, knowing it was Lily's favorite.

Harry went to check the temperature of the stove when the song ended and another one instantly began to play. He can hear Ginny shuffling to the Wireless and then the volume was turned up an octave higher. Harry listened to his intently, realizing that it sounded vaguely familiar. He turned to see Ginny was back to the bowl on the counter and she was pouring the batter in the pan.

"Hey, isn't that the one song?" he asked, smiling as he went back to the chicken and started to place slices of cheese and ham on top of the meat, roll it up, and secure it with a toothpick. He placed it on the baking dish, evenly sprinkle it with bread crumbs, before he went to prepare the other chicken breasts.

Ginny nodded. "Yeah. It was when I was playing with the Holyharpies."

It was a captivating, rock ballad song. It gave a passive feel to the room, relaxing to the mind.

"I thought so," Harry grinned.

Ginny, who had gotten the batter in the pan, began to sway her hips to the beats of the drums as she made her way to the oven, sending a sly smile to Harry's way, inviting and persuasive.

"Nope," he shook his head, laughing, as he watched her place the pan in the oven and closed it. "You won't get me to dance."

Ginny continued, however, as she walked back to him, shaking her shoulders seductively, the smile never leaving her face, and she held him by his hips with her hands while rolling hers. Harry laughed at her attempt, shaking his head. He kept preparing the chicken breasts but he was beginning to feel the tempo of the music thrum in his veins and the way how she is making his hips move along with the movement of hers was infectious.

Eventually, Ginny reached around to take him by the wrist and turned him to her, pulling him to the center of the kitchen. Harry watched her amusingly, smiling. She started to swing their arms to the side lazily, letting him get into the feel of the music, and Harry's smile widen as she started to use more momentum.

"Come on," she urged. "You know you want to."

Harry rolled his eyes but started to sway his hips stiffly, knowing he looked somewhat ridiculous. He was not much of a dancer; he had managed to accomplish the basic steps of a waltz for his wedding day and a simple shuffle.

Yet it did not seem to bother Ginny by his lack of motion as she is laughing pleasantly and twirling them around, dancing awkwardly and messily. The song reached the second chorus; Harry took Ginny by the waist to lift her onto his shoulder and spin her around, eliciting a surprised laugh from her as they twirled. He was feeling his mind slip away through the pulse of the bass and the flow of the guitar strums when he heard a familiar sound break into the song.

Still holding his wife on his shoulder, Harry whirled around to the noise; standing by the entrance were Ron and Hermione with the children. Ron was holding Hugo's hand and Hermione held Lily in her arms against her hip. Harry realized that the sound was Lily's giggle, seeing that she was burying her face in Hermione's hair, trying to hide her smile. Hermione and Ron were sharing an equal smirk.

Embarrassed, Harry placed Ginny back down on her feet and returned to his spot by the counter to continue his work on preparing the chicken. The volume of the Wireless was lowered and he knew Ginny had turned the knob.

"Mummy!" Lily cried as hopped out of Hermione's arms and skipped over to her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," Ginny said while embracing her daughter in her arms tightly. "Did you have fun with your Uncle and Auntie?"

Lily seemed hesitant as she released Ginny but she managed to cover it with a bright smile. "Loads! Uncle Ron let me ride the Comet 290 and we played Shuntbumps! I beat Hugo and Uncle Ron!"

"That's lovely," Ginny grinned. "I always knew you'd have the Quidditch instincts in your blood."

"I let her win," Ron mumbled. "I didn't want to seem like an arse for knocking her off her broom."

"Keep telling yourself that," Ginny retorted. She gave him a quick one-arm hug before turning to her nephew. "How are you, little H?"

"Lily cheated," Hugo grumbled with a pout, his arms crossed.

"I did not!" Lily cried.

"Did too!" Hugo countered. "I would have knocked you off your broom if you hadn't gone through the hoops. Dad said those are meant for Aingingein."

"He did not!" Lily huffed. "Besides, I told you to let me ride the Nimbus 2005 - I was used to it. Don't blame me because I'm better than you."

"No you're not! I've been flying since I was four," Hugo pointed out. "The first time you were on a broom, you cried like a baby!"

"I did not cry!" Lily suddenly shouted.

Harry almost dropped the chicken breast at his daughter's unexpected shrill and stared at her. It was not like his daughter to explode at Hugo's accusations. She can be moody like him and annoyed like her mother, but Lily rarely loses her temper.

Hugo seemed unmoved.

"Okay, calm down you two," Hermione said quickly, arching a dangerous brow. "Nobody is better than anybody."

"But she-"

"Hugo – you need to learn better sportsmanship and accept losing once in a while," Hermione turned to her red-haired niece. "And Lily – you shouldn't make fun of others or gloat about your Quidditch skills."

Neither of the kids responded to Hermione's points, looking at anywhere but at each other or the adults staring at them.

"She's right, kids," Harry added over his shoulder. "Now why don't you go and play some Xbox? I'll even let you play James' game. Call of Duty, I think it's called."

Lily gawked. "You mean Black Ops 5? James never lets us play that game!"

"Well, James isn't here, is he?" Harry smirked. He placed one finger to his lips. "This will be our little secret."

The two kids shined up from their dimmed demeanors with excited grins and sparkling eyes. They quickly scattered down the direction to the common room, bumping into each other, and nearly tripping over their feet.

Hermione turned to Harry disapprovingly.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"How can you expect them to learn any discipline if you spoil them like that?" Hermione questioned challengingly.

Harry shrugged, though he was smiling wittily.

"Let them have their fun, Hermione," Ron said as he turned to follow the kids. "They learned their lesson, might as well reward them for it. I'll go see if they need help setting it up."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, you don't know how to set up a game console!" she said after him but he had already disappeared to the common room. She sighed, shaking her head and turned back to Ginny and Ron. "Tell me Lily knows how."

Ginny laughed as she took the dish towel to wipe her hands and walked out of the kitchen. "Not all that much. I'll go and help. I've seen James do it a lot. Watch the cake for me?"

Hermione nodded before she went over to stand next to Harry by the counter, looking over him to the oven. Harry glanced at her, followed her gaze, and then looked back down at the chicken as he let out a chuckle.

"Staring at it won't make it finish faster," he said.

Hermione blinked out of her trance and turned to him. He laughed at the muddled expression she had on.

"Sod off," she said with a grin. "I have a raging sweet tooth right now. You know how I get with Ginny's famous coco cake."

"Are you sure you're the daughter of dentists?"

"Are you sure what you did earlier was called dancing?"

Harry grimaced. He wondered how long she and Ron had stood watching him and Ginny earlier.

"You win," Harry murmured.

Hermione smiled in triumph then she glanced down at the chicken. "Need any help?"

"Erm," Harry looked around the kitchen momentarily before his eyes landed on the empty pot and several ingredients left unopened beside it. "Do you think you can make the sauce?"

"Sure, what kind?"

"Turkey."

"You trust me enough to not muck it up?" Hermione asked jokingly as she took out her wand, swished, and levitated the empty pot in the sink next to her before summoning the measuring cup full of turkey fat. She'd like to place pots in the sink to not make a mess if she was using any sort of liquid; Harry did not know understand but he just shrug it off.

"I'm sure your cooking improved enough to not turn gravy to a crispy dish," he said as he see her flick her wand over to the stove, turning the knob to medium heat. He finished the final chicken breast and carried the baking pan to the second oven he had transfigured earlier.

"That was one time," Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes. "Mum's gravy is tricky to make. You're never going to let that go, will you?"

Harry placed the pan in the oven and closed it before turning to her with a sly smirk. "Nope. How was it possible for you to dry up gravy like raisin, I will never know."

"Shut up," Hermione mumbled, blushing heavily out of embarrassment. She had already mixed the flour in the turkey fat; she levitated the pan to the stove and took a wooden spoon to start stirring it.

Harry smiled as he watched her stir, imagining a younger version of her sitting on a stool next to her mother by the stove while watching her as she made a batch of gravy. He can see her constantly asking her mother why she did one step or why is was crucial, her mother answering them willingly, sometimes even volunteering to participate in cooking it. He can even picture her whining to her mother for a chance of demonstration and then her father would come in – Harry's smiled dropped at the thought of the hospitalized parent. He looked at Hermione's back, tilting his head in wonder.

"Hey Hermione?"

"Hm?" she grunted.

"Have you…been able to visit your dad?" he asked hesitantly. He saw her shoulders tense up then relax as she breathed.

"Yeah, I have," she answered.

Harry approached her at the stove and stood beside her. He can see she was trying hard to keep her gaze on the sauce.

"How is he?" he inquired.

"Still in a coma, if that's what you're asking about," Hermione said. "His temperature is down but the doctors are still trying to figure out what caused it. The percentage of his life being on risk had lowered. So far…inconclusive."

Harry pursed his lips. "At least there's some good news."

"Yeah," she said lowly. She pointed her wand to the ice box and a bottle of white wine came to her hand. She added a small dab into the pot as she stirred constantly.

Harry licked his lips. "Does Ron know?"

"Um," Hermione frowned. "Can we not talk about Ron right now?"

Harry began to grow worried. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing, just," Hermione shrugged. "I just want to talk about something that isn't Ron. It's all we ever talk about lately. I'd like a change of topic."

Harry can hear her voice waver in the end, trembling over her words. It was not like Hermione to push aside a conversation about one topic that actually involves her, no matter how non-logical or tiring it will be to go around in circles; she just never truly stopped until it finished with a conclusion. And it was not like her to run away from what hurts her or bothers her in any way, not even when she is in the receiving end of what is being thrown at her. She would stand up to her belief, push against those who stood in her way, go beyond to achieve, and to make things right.

But then he remembered that Ron always had an effect on Hermione in her choices and her way of thinking. Being in love with someone is such a powerful blind to the eye and common sense can be thrown out the window for the importance on who the heart has chosen. Ron, being tenacious and arduous, was challenging enough to break through Hermione's strenuous determination and make her break her focus on what she strives for enough to make her take a break from working and analyze her faults. That is what had been going on to Harry's best friends.

Yet, it is awful for Hermione to be under Ron's hold; their relationship is starting to remind him of a submissive and a dominate. There is pain and pleasure for them. When they fight its their way of communicating for them to feel the pleasure of resolving their conflict and when they don't see eye to eye, they're in pain. It usually depends on the actions or words of the other and right now it is usually Ron who is causing Hermione pain for not taking a chance to see the world in her eyes, to see her motives.

Harry held his breath as he reached one hand out to grasp onto Hermione's wrist, stilling her stirring, and then turned her towards him. She did not look away from his eyes like she did earlier this morning but she did seem hesitant and reluctant. He was beginning to wonder if he should just let the topic drop like she requested but he cannot seem to force himself to do so knowing she was doing a horrible job hiding her problems.

"What happened?" he asked firmly, although he was nervous.

Hermione glanced away from him for a moment, looking at his collarbone, as she nibbled on her bottom lip. Harry's eyes automatically fell on the small act, noticing how tender and fragile her lips seemed stuck between her teeth. Bare of lipstick, but soft pink. It held a pull of sensuality and a thousand sins it may have marked. So simple, so casual yet it seemed much more provocative just by looking at it. Harry blinked out of his stare and looked up at her eyes, trying to ease his heart rate that he realized had accelerated.

Hermione mumbled something incoherent under her breath but Harry hardly understood.

"What?"

Hermione lifted her gaze up to his and sighed out, "Ron and I had another row before coming here."

Harry was not surprised and he was not clear as to why Hermione seemed embarrassed by this. He had been their personal witness for their fights for years or individual listener of their situations that he could even consider becoming a small business and charge them for the hour as a therapist. He was not sure why she suddenly changed her act on her admittance to their normal ways of communication and he felt a sense of panic wash over him at the fact.

Hermione sighed and slipped her wrist out of his grasp to fold her arms. "Everything was going smoothly; the kids were getting ready – I was getting ready – but then Ron came home and everything went sour. He just can't seem learn how to keep a comment to himself for once," she huffed weakly. "I welcome him home and what do I get in return? Him being a complete git and saying 'I'm surprised you're home early for once'. I can't even say anything without him trying to start up again."

Harry stayed quiet; he knew there was more to the story.

"I'm not going to lie, it was my fault too," she proceeded. "I could have just shrugged it off and kept on with my own business but…I sort of…exploded. I was just getting so tired that I can't walk in my own home without him being such an infuriating arse for at least five minutes! It's like he's keen to constantly reminding me on what I'm missing and how disappointing I am to them. Ever since that night I came home late, he's been making me feel like I'm abandoning my kids – my father – _everything!_ I'm telling you, Harry, he's being inconsiderate about the whole thing! He doesn't get that it isn't easy knowing that the only time I get to have a few minutes alone with my son is when he's asleep or very early in the morning or days like this. He's just so – argh!"

Harry's eyebrows raised and hid under his hair.

"That's not the worst part, Harry. You see…we might have been too loud even behind closed doors and…well…Lily heard us and she came in on us. It was awful." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We scared her and she cried. Again, I'm not going to lie – this isn't the first time Lily caught us. But this time it was just…horrible. I don't think Ron and I ever fought that bad enough to make a child cry but we did. I tried to reassure her that everything is fine but she is clearly still shaken up by the way she react earlier. It reminded her of me and Ron."

Harry clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth tightly. He felt a swell of anger and annoyance towards his two best friends for allowing his own flesh and blood being hurt for their own problems. It was not intentional but they were being reckless with how they are handling with their conflicts. He did not mind being supportive and lend a hand whenever asked but he will pull back from his word when it came to his children, especially the youngest one he considers his princess. That was his limit above all.

"You made my daughter cry?" Harry asked in disbelief, his voice dangerously low. "You scared my daughter?"

"Harry, we didn't mean to-"

"It doesn't matter if you mean to, Hermione," Harry pointed out sternly, strongly. "The point is that this is getting out of hand – the both of you! For you to make Lily cry and scare her out of her wits – that's just – enough is enough! Both of you!"

Hermione opened her mouth but then she closed it once she saw the feral look in Harry's eyes.

"You two need to sort this out already. Ron needs to pull his head out of his arse and quit being so childlike towards you – he's thirty-bloody-seven years old, for Merlin's sake! And you need to get your mind out of the gutter. I get your situation is tough – I've been there with Ginny when we had James but we've managed and we're still managing. Like you – I have the pressure of the whole wizarding world to put these fugitives behind bars – I have the pressure of my family on my shoulders as well – but I'm still able to balance. This whole fight between you and Ron has got to stop now – sit down and talk it out – and I mean _really_ talk – no arguing – no comments – no anything but talking like a couple of civilians. No – like a married couple! Okay?"

By the end of his speech, Harry was left breathing heavily, staring down at a stunned Hermione, who was staring at him in astonishment and her mouth was parted in surprise. She did not looked hurt but like she had been presented to a whole new light through his rant and he was glad it was better than the latter. As strong of a woman Hermione can be, she still had a sensitive heart when it came to what is held in it. Nobody likes the ugly truth about what they love or care about. Slowly, Hermione closed her mother and nodded.

"You're right," she said. "I'm sorry."

"You better be – you and Ron," he remarked quickly.

"I am, truly," she replied truthfully. "I really never meant for things to get this far. Especially to Lily. I love her – you know I do. I love her as much as I love Rose and Hugo. Knowing that she's so rattled is partially my fault…I'm sorry."

Harry breathed out sharply, releasing all remaining anger and frustration he had pent up inside him exhale from him.

"I really didn't mean to make her cry, Harry, I-"

"I know, I know," Harry murmured, his tone softer and calmer now. "I just need you two to make up already. Because whatever affects the kids affects everyone. If this keeps on then I don't think I want Lily to stay over for a while until everything is the same. I know you love having her over but I can't if she has to go through that," Harry quickly said when he saw the dubious look etch on her face.

"I understand. I'd do the same if you and Ginny were like that. I'm sorry," sighed Hermione; he looked at her face to see the rare look of defeat, and knew that his face was not entirely relaxed from all signs of anger.

"I know you're busy but I need to know everything is going to be okay enough for Lily whenever she sleeps over because it's going to be quite often, I assume with Ginny working and having to watch the matches for her articles and those last long," he said quietly. "Hermione, I'm going to be leaving for a mission first thing in the morning and I don't know how long it's going to be until I get back."

Hermione gasped. "What? Wh-why tell me this now? At such a short time?"

"I just made the arrangements today," he replied. "We found out Gudgeon had a few connections to a drug dealer and a couple of stores in Knockturn Alley and Jugson used his identity to get some ingredients. Whatever they're for, I'm sure he's taking them to Yaxley in Montana."

"You finally managed to get a hold of him?"

"Not exactly – it's a hunch but I'm sure it's him. And if it is then I can't miss this opportunity to finally turn him in. He's roamed free for too long."

Hermione stared at him wearily. "Does Ginny know?"

"No," he admitted. "I'm planning to tell her and Lily after supper. Figure it's something that should be discussed in private."

"I agree," said Hermione, nodding, but the frown on her face spoke another emotion. "But, Harry – please, please – be careful. If it is Yaxley that Jugson is meeting then there's no doubt he'll be expecting you there as well. Sooner or later, Jugson's cover as Gudgeon was going to come out in the open and you were most likely to follow his tracks. Yaxley is considered one of the most top criminals in the wizarding world because of his miraculous defense skills and quick wits – that's how he's been able to hide from you for so long."

Harry winced at her honestly; sometimes he wished she wasn't so direct with the truth to him.

"I'll try-"

"No – you will _do_ it. Trying means you're not certain. Say you _will_ be careful. Say it!"

A grin stretched out on Harry's face as he listened to Hermione's demands. It had been a long time since he heard her bossiness and urgency for his safety. He finds it out that the first time he came to encounter with this side of hers, he found her to be remarkably annoying and plain rude but now he found it to be refreshing and cared for. He does not think he could be able to do the things he does now without Hermione's pressing attitude.

"I promise I will," said Harry honestly, holding up a hand. "Auror's honor."

"I don't give a bloody damn about an Auror's honor," Hermione grumbled, disgruntled. "I need _your_ promise, Harry James Potter – say it."

Harry held up his hand again. "I solemnly swear to you, Hermione Jean Granger, that I will be careful on this disastrous and dangerous mission and come back in one piece."

"Good. That's all I ask."

They looked at each other; mixed emotions running high among them about the news that had just been processed. Harry could take a hint on how worrisome Hermione is now about him but seeing her act so frantic actually made him nervous. It had been a long time since he had been on a mission to capture a fugitive and he knew he is a little rusty despite the times he spent training the novices and exercising on his skills, the field was different than the training center. Jinxes and hexes were not going to be used in a real duel, only curses. He had not faced a curse since the time he had be hit by the Killing Curse by Lord Voldemort and he had been lucky to be given the choice to come back to the world of living, but now he did not have the choice to come back if everything went wrong. It was overwhelming; he felt like he was a junior officer again.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Hermione's chest mold with his as she flung herself onto him and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

"H-Hermione!"

"You better come back to me, Harry," she breathed into his ear. "I need you over here - I don't even what to think – oh Harry – be _careful!_ "

Getting over the shock of her wrapped around him, Harry tied his arms by her waist in a tight embrace and lowered his chin down on her shoulder, lightly rubbing a hand up and down on her back as a comforting manner, wanting her to calm down. He became tense, however, when he felt her fingers play with the hair on the nape of his neck, sending waves of shivers down on his spine like a block of ice, and he wondered if she can feel the pulse of his throat thumping erratically against her head. His hands halted on the middle of her back.

Finally, she released a sigh and pulled back from him, sliding her hands down on his upper arms. He let his hands to lazily stay on her waist as he stared down at her.

"Please-"

"I will, Hermione. It's not the first time I went on a mission. How else would I have become Head Auror?"

"I know, but still – I worry."

Harry smiled. "I know."

Hermione returned his smile then a light beep came from the oven; the cake and the chicken were ready.

"We should get these out there before everyone goes hungry," Hermione insisted, turning away from Harry to open the oven and put on a pair of mitten she spotted on the handle bar.

"You just want the cake," Harry smirked innocently as he watched her pull out the pan carrying the fully baked chocolate cake, the smell of rich cocoa spreading throughout the air, and then placed it on the counter.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him before she turned and walked out of the kitchen, probably to announce that dinner was ready and to inform Ginny that the cake was out for decorations.

As Harry watched her leave, he wondered how he is going to be able to go along with the mission without seeing or hearing Hermione's voice. He had gotten used to seeing her and talking to her daily now, as they all have gotten back to their previous routine of their earlier lives. He does not think he could ever get used to not seeing her sparkling eyes, her beaming smiles, or to not be able to hear her voice in the mornings, the afternoons, or the evening when they would leave work together. He always looked forward to his moments with her; she was part of his life. He went to put on the mittens that Hermione had left behind and went to take the chicken out of the oven.

His ears perked when he heard many footsteps dashing in from the common room, yells of excitement, Ron laughing, Ginny being sarcastically humorous, and then Hermione trying to gain control over the overly energetic kids.

 _No_ , Harry thought as he carried the baking dish to the counter and placed it next to the bare cake. He saw Hugo and Lily skipping on their steps as they approached him at the counter, followed by Ron and Ginny having a hushed conversation where Harry can hear Quidditch players being mentioned, and then came in Hermione, looking amused and hungry for the awaiting chocolate cake. He can see her glance at him and then send him an encouraging yet nervous smile that spoke millions of words than she can possibly say.

Harry returned the gesture as a bitter ache dulled in his chest, knowing he won't be seeing the sight for a long period of time while he dismally thought: _I'm going to miss her like mad._

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	13. Welcome

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter because I know it is what most of you have been waiting for: Hermione's point of view! Now we will see what is going on in the Weasley household, Hermione's work, and what has been going through her mind since the unforgettable kiss!

Keep in mind that this is just the first chapter of her perspective so you won't be getting all the answers right away. But I do hope you all enjoy. I have been waiting for this time for a long time and I'm excited to be writing through the eyes of my favorite character.

I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

 _It's down to me and you,_

 _In this cold and empty room-_

 _Forgotten what we're dying for._

 _Just tell me what to change._

 _Just tell me what to say,_

 _'Cause I can't feel it anymore._

 _But why are we so incomplete?_

\- Dust and Gold; Arrows to Athens

* * *

 _"She had a bigger heart than she had a brain."_

\- JK Rowling

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Welcome**

It has been a week since Harry left for his mission and the Ministry seemed quite isolating without his presence for Hermione. She had Gerald and Julie there with her through the days, but the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had been nearly half-vacant due to the Quidditch matches becoming quite interesting due to the Tutsill Tornadoes having a miraculous comeback for making it to the semi-finals and then there is the news about the Chudley Canons; the story of the famous Seeker's death had been discovered when one of the teammates looked for him at his apartment and then later went in to report a missing person. That was when the truth about Galvin Gudgeon had come out.

The world had been enraged at Harry for hiding about Galvin's death, with him being a public figure to both adults and children, and had held a memorial for him. There had been various hate mails sent in for Harry, some verbally abusive but others made Hermione cautious because they seemed very promising to be more than just a threat and quite detail to how violent ends will come to Harry. Hermione found people to be ignorant to even think of sending hate mail to the man who can easily arrest them for soliciting death to the law. She was glad that Harry was not here in the meantime because he did not need to worry about his family being in danger; she had set up wards and protection charms over the Potter residence to be sure. So far she hadn't heard any signs of a break-in yet.

Hermione was in her office when she thought about the Potter family. She had learned two days ago, when Lily had stayed over her house, that she and Ginny did not react well to the news of Harry leaving after dinner. She understood that they were worried for his being, knowing that one of the top criminals is who he is after, and they more likely prefer him to be home where they can see him breathing and alive, but at the same time, Hermione understood why Harry wanted to be the one to capture Yaxley because she wanted him to rot in the cell as well for what he had done to Ron nineteen years ago during the Horcrux hunt. They will never forget.

Hermione put the quill between her teeth as she looked down at the piece of parchment on her desk (a permission request to own a crup, close to six weeks old). She remembered several years ago, when she was a junior, she had encountered a crup during her travels to Spain with S.P.E.W. and she had spotted a Jack Russell Terrier with a forked tail hiding in a box in an alleyway between two stores, snarling ferociously at any Muggles that strolled by. The creature was marked three X's due to its feral nature toward the non-magical. They're loyal to wizards and witches but they are not allowed in the Muggle world.

Hermione reached for her inkbottle, dipped her quill in it, and wrote down her signature in the approval box, the scratching of the quill reminding her how quiet the office is without her assistants. She brought out a small piece of parchment from her drawers and wrote a small note to staple it to the permission piece then read:

 _Forked tail to be removed immediately. No Muggles allowed to visit residence. Creature not allowed to step in any part of Muggle world. If regulations are violated, ownership shall be terminated and said creature will be under the name of the RCMGD._

Hermione blew on the parchment to dry up the ink, rolled it up, and then used her wand to have it folded up into a paper airplane. She watched it hover up and then zoom out of her office, heading its way to the Department of Magical Transportation that she had it casted upon. She went through the piles of papers she had in her desk, signing negative from positives, approve of some meetings with some clients, treatments for some magical creatures, and several permission files of ownerships. She had been doing this since she clocked in at seven in the morning and, after three cans of caffeine sodas, she was beginning to feel the effects of a deprived sleep.

She hadn't been able to have a decent rest ever since Harry announced his departure; she would go down to the post office to see if he had sent a letter or she would be attentive of the home phone in case if he chose to go to the Muggle way of communication, but she had not heard a word from him, and she was quite angered by this. She knew that he knew he should let her know about his whereabouts somehow to keep her at ease. She needed to know he was alive, breathing, and unharmed or else she would probably go mental. She never did like Harry's choice of profession from the start, she found it too dangerous and risky, especially when he has a family to provide. She did not want to think about how devastated and heartbroken the Potter family would be if Harry were to die out in the field. Lily would not be her cheerful self again – Albus would be lost – James would become hollow – and Ginny would be dreadful.

Hermione paused on her writing as she thought about Ginny. It wasn't until two days after Harry told her about the mission and after she went to the Burrow to talk to Molly, that Ginny came to Hermione's office during lunch hour for a talk. The redhead was clearly upset that her husband chose to do such a dangerous task at short notice without consulting it with her first and Hermione had to agree on her like that. If Ron had stayed as an Auror with Harry and agreed to go on a job as perilous without hearing a word from her then she would have likely react the same as Ginny. But Hermione did not like hearing that Ginny and Harry had ended in a heated discussion that same night and it was left unresolved as soon as she woke up. Which is what brought her to Hermione; she always wanted to know if Harry had sent her any posts.

The conversation, however, left Hermione stuck on which side she should actually take on. Her best friend or her sister-in-law. It would be an obvious chose that she would remain on Harry's side throughout all but Ginny had been her girl best friend over the years, even for times when she could talk to her about things that she could not with Harry or Ron, and they had grown relatively close through the boys yet she did not want her to think that just because she had known Harry longer that she was irrelevant to her. She had chosen to stay neutral for the sake of her friendship with both of them.

She started to scratch her quill to the parchment again as she remembered how the conversation:

* * *

Hermione was organizing her files into the cabinets, eager to go to the Leaky Cauldron and have a decent plate of pickled eel and a slice of steak and kidney pie and a nice warm cup of sweet tea. She was also looking forward to seeing Hannah at the inn, as she does not have that much company in the inn despite the many customers she could get on any upcoming holidays or freeloaders during Quidditch season. Apparently, she was waiting for the response of her application as a Matron at Hogwarts and Hermione hoped that she would get the job as she knew how much she missed Neville during the school years and she found it to be a lovely idea for them to work in the same area together.

Hermione had closed a cabinet drawer when the sound of her door opening caught her attention and she turned to find herself facing a Ginny Potter with slightly bloodshot eyes. Her hair, that was always in elegant streaks over her back like a waterfall, was curled into a bun with a few tendrils hovering over her face. She was wearing a beige turtleneck sweater with a black skirt and matching heels.

"Gin, hey," Hermione said politely. "What brings you here?"

"Are you busy?" Ginny asked as she closed the door and walked up to the brunette witch.

"Not at the moment, I was just about to head out to lunch," said Hermione, warily staring at her sister-in-law's almost matching eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"I was hoping I caught you in the right time." Ginny sat on the armrest of a chair with a sigh, "And no, not really."

Hermione walked to the front of her desk and leaned against it as she folded her arms over her stomach. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing big, just…Harry and his mission."

"Oh," Hermione murmured. "If you're worried about him – which you obviously are – it's okay to be. Going on a deadly trip for precarious blokes like Yaxley and Jugson is unnerving and mind-boggling."

"It is," Ginny sighed deeply, falling back into to chair, letting her legs hang over the armrest. She had been in the office many times before that she practically made herself comfortable enough like she is at home and Hermione did not mind as she, sometimes, lets her assistants sleep there during overnight works. "It's troublesome. I just don't get why he couldn't have sent someone else for this mission. He always has to act like the hero."

Hermione smirked. "Yeah, Harry always has that 'saving-the-world-thing' problem. Always taking care of everything in his own hands."

Ginny tilted her head back as she crossed her arms and grumbled something incoherent that Hermione did not understand.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked.

Ginny sighed. "I said sometimes I wish he wasn't an Auror. Between us, I never really understood why he chose this career. I thought he had enough of dark wizards and dueling years ago."

Hermione nodded. She had to agree with her about unnecessary obligation to live life the same way Harry had before when he had fought through blood, sweat, and tears to have a peaceful life he dreamed daily. Being an Auror means to trade a life for another and she did fear that one day Harry would have to exchange his. Which is why she is constantly worrying about him, fretting every day on whether he would come home soon, and praying that the next knock on her door would not be by an Auror with bad news. She found watching him play Quidditch in Hogwarts to be much more calming because she knew if he ever fell off his broom then a quick Cushioning Charm or Arresto Momentum Charm could be used.

But at the same time, she had to differ from Ginny. Hermione grew up with Harry; she knew how much Harry wanted to reach for that peaceful life and, in a way, she understood why he chose to become an Auror. His life is not over with the storm of the war with all the Death Eaters and Snatchers still free – he was still stuck in his past no matter how he lived. She knew that Yaxley was not the only reason why Harry trained himself to the core but because he did not want to have to worry about his past being stuck with him all of his life. He wanted a normal life and he was willing to literally fight for it before he dies.

"Well, you can't really questioned him for his choice of career," Hermione said. "He didn't really complain about your Quidditch career – missed you, really – but he never said anything against it."

Ginny frowned. "That's different. I wasn't getting cursed on or hexed into the next week. If I fall off a broom, I can count someone to catch me or put the Cushioning Charm on or something, but being an Auror is different. You don't know when he's coming back."

"That's true," Hermione said as she went to sit on the chair next to Ginny. "But – and this is coming from someone experiencing it – you need to look at things in Harry's perspective on why he's doing this or you'll never understand. It's a risky mission but he's doing it for a good reason."

"I know he's doing it because of what happened to Ron, he told me about it," Ginny retorted. "But that happened years ago. Ron is over it, barely remembers it now. Harry needs to move on from it."

Hermione nodded silently. She reached down to undo the zippers of her ankle boots and slip them off.

"You know we had a row the night before he left," said Ginny; Hermione looked up at her, dumbfounded and the redhead nodded at her reaction. "It was after supper; I told him he didn't have to go, that he can just stay here and send someone on the mission but he was so stubborn. I tried to convince him to but he told me he had already arranged to leave first thing in the morning and I was so upset. Like, how can he not talk to me about this? He can't just go and make decisions like this out of the air!"

Hermione pursed her lips. She had been disappointed at Harry for making the choice of leaving so soon but she knew that she could not persuade him into staying home and had hoped when he told Ginny then she would have been able to change his mind. Apparently even the wife had no power over a hard mind like Harry's.

"I told him that and he backfired saying 'this is my job and it's my responsibility' or something between the lines," Ginny continued. "I told him if it's so important then he might as well not come home after if it's much more important to him than Lily."

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, appalled. "How can you say that to him?"

Rolling out of the chair, Ginny made an exasperated sound. "It slipped out! I was mad!"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief as she watched Ginny pace in front of her and leaned back into the chair, arms crossed, brows knitted, and a disappointed frown. Ginny noticed the change in her posture and halted from pacing furthermore.

"Don't judge me, everyone says things they don't mean when they're hotheaded," she said defensively. "I reckon you and Ron say loads of things when you're having a row."

"Ron and I are different," Hermione retorted sharply. "Yes – we do put our kids into it – and yes – sometimes things do get out of hand – but it's still different. Ron, me, _and_ you grew up with family – with parents. Harry hasn't."

"I know that," Ginny said haughtily, returning back to pacing. "But it just gets me so bothered that he's so…focused on his job. I mean, ever since he got promoted to Head Auror, he hardly ever takes Lily to school, or picks her up – the only time he really cooks is when it's our turn to host – he comes home late so he doesn't read Lily to bed like he used to – he basically lives at his office and –"

Ginny's voice became deaf to Hermione's ears as she watched her sister-in-law rant on about Harry's inaccuracy in his home life; she wondered if Ron felt this way too. Unlike Ginny, Ron does not have the willpower to hold back what he feels and he isn't afraid to hurt her feelings with the truth of things if it is wrong on her part. He did have the emotional range of a teaspoon still – that is something that cannot grow out of him. But, with everything that is going on between them and her work, she was beginning to see his side of their conflicts through his sister.

"- and then there's the ball! He had promised me that he would be my escort and then he just decides to leave! It's in a few days! Sometimes I think he forgets he has a family, Hermione. I can't remember when was the last time he wrote to Al or James. He probably doesn't even know what's going on over there. He doesn't seem to remember me or any of his kids," Ginny finished as she slumped back into the chair next to Hermione.

"I get that you're upset, Gin, but involving the kids like that was a bad move there," Hermione said, rising up from her chair and striding around her desk, leaving her shoes behind. "You know he loves them all more than his life and he will do anything for them. That's why he's risking his life daily. To make sure they're safe. It is still uneasy to know the same people we fought at war are still around."

"But the war is over, isn't it?"

"Maybe for you, but certainly not for Harry," said Hermione as she went through the several drawers of her desk, searching for her wallet. She had her purse on the desk but she had taken out her wallet earlier to search for the Knuts she had owed to Julie for paying for lunch last time.

Ginny raised a marble brow. "What do you mean?"

Hermione finally found her wallet in the top drawer and turned back to Ginny. She can see the redhead's interest to her retort was piqued with the way how her eyes were narrowed and brows furrowed.

"It's nothing," Hermione replied. "Just a theory of mine when it comes to Harry and his job."

Ginny's shoulders sagged a little. "C'mon Hermione, I need to know. Maybe I can understand better why he's so keen on doing this."

Hermione sighed. She was beginning to feel the draining energy that she probably bestows upon Harry during her rambles about Ron. She loved to help Ginny, she had no problem, but she did not like being involved with her marriage with Harry so much. It only takes one word to cause a catastrophe. But she knew that Ginny would not let this go until she told her; she went back around her desk and leaned against it, clutching on her wallet.

"Well…you know how Harry lived his life…being surrounded with dark wizards, dark magic, Voldemort, and such," she began. "Growing up, preparing for war, and then later suffering from PTS…It's a lot. Harry…you want him to move on from all of that but it's not exactly easy knowing that remains of your past are still around and you're reminded every day of what you went through. Yes – he wouldn't have to constantly see it if he hadn't accepted the job but even if he did, he would see reports on newspapers, wanted posters, so it really doesn't matter whether he is working as Head Auror or not. Harry just won't be at ease until they're all imprisoned."

When Ginny did not respond right away like Hermione anticipated, she started to feel anxious and quietly cursed at herself for opening her mouth. She had such a bad habit of a running mouth. Her mother and father often remind her and Ron would joke how she is able to say so many words in one breath. She thought she would learn to cease her speeches but apparently her job requires her to speak more and she has a young boy at home who loved to challenge her. She is always talking constantly hourly.

Ginny twiddled with her thumbs before murmuring, "I didn't think of that."

Hermione held her breath, preventing herself from releasing a sigh of relief. She was glad to know that she got a better reaction from Ginny. She really needed to stop worrying over small things. She pushed herself off the desk and went to sit by Ginny on the armrest. She gently pushed Ginny's head to rest on her side and then lightly patted her.

"It's okay," Hermione said. "It happens. It's like you said – you were mad. Nobody thinks when they're mad or truly mean what they say."

Ginny glanced up at her but did move her head. "How'd you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Inferring stuff. I can't remember how many times you were able to do that with essays."

Hermione shrugged. "Being in law requires a lot of reading of the body language and research. So I read a lot."

"So what's your excuse for Hogwarts?" Ginny asked sarcastically.

Hermione laughed.

Ginny pulled away from the brunette and rose up from the chair. She lifted her arms over her head as she stretched out her muscles, letting out a strained groan. Hermione got up from the chair and went to get her purse from the desk, shoving her wallet inside. She had spent the first ten minutes of her lunch break inside her stuffy office and her stomach was rumbling painfully and she was more than eager to go to the Leaky Cauldron now.

"Sorry for taking up your time," Ginny said.

Slinging the strap over her shoulder, Hermione shook her head. "Don't be. And if you like, I'll be your escort to the ball. I don't think Ron and I will be together for long afterwards."

"Still fighting?"

Hermione sighed and nodded.

"When is that ever going to end?" Ginny questioned. "It's been a whole week already."

"Honestly, I don't know," Hermione said as they started their way to the door together, their arms linked. "It's like we can't seem to connect on this one. Our perspectives are so different. And when it comes to the kids – it's a nightmare."

"Don't worry about it," Ginny replied. She opened the door and stepped out with Hermione. She slipped her arm away to allow her to lock her office. "Give it another day or two and you're be shagging like rabbits sooner than you think."

"Oh yes," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because make-up sex is quite enjoyable."

"There is no better way."

Hermione laughed at her sister-in-law's nonchalant sense of humor towards anything sexual and then took her arm in hers again before dragging her towards the lifts.

* * *

Hermione chuckled at the memory. Needless to say, she did not spend lunch alone that day and she was able to catch up with Ginny more than she did during family dinners. She hoped that when Harry returns, they would be back to their good graces again.

But as Hermione thought about Ginny, she was given hope in fixing up her problems with Ron now; seeing how Ginny was acting towards Harry reminded her of Ron and she had saw how he could possibly be acting when she is not in the room. She saw the situation through his eyes and she felt guilt. She never knew she was making it seem like she had been neglecting her family for so long. The same theory she told Ginny about Harry was how she felt the whole time – she cannot be at peace unless the dark criminals were imprisoned for good for the sake of her kids.

Now she needed to recoil with her family for the sake of her marriage with Ron and her relationship with her kids.

A sharp knock brought Hermione out of her thoughts and she straighten her posture as she sees the door being pushed open. Entering her office was Kingsley, wearing his Minister robes and a stack of parchment under one arm. Time had showed his age efficiently since Hermione began to work at the Ministry – crinkles in his eyes, withered wrinkles frowning on his forehead, and chapped skin. His physique was still well-handled seeing he still had broad shoulders and he still wore the single gold hoop.

"Counselor Granger," he greeted in his deep, slow voice.

"Minister," Hermione said as she stood up. "How may I help you?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you can give me those files you spoke about in the meeting last time," Kingsley said.

Hermione went to the cabinet and took out the file; inside it she held the many evidence she had gathered from Rowle's false alibies – the witness to Rowle's rash behavior towards Muggle-borns in his year at Hogwarts – Twinky's memories of the night Rowle murdered his parents – and then Harry's report on the Imperius Curse story being confirmed as false by fellow Death Eater, Amycuz Carrow. She needed to properly thank Harry for his effort in helping her in the case, although, she knew he did it more to put him behind bars, she still appreciated it.

"Was there an interdepartmental memo I didn't get?" Hermione asked as she handed the file to the Minister.

"No, I just came from a meeting with Counselor Thorn about the case when I remembered I forgot to ask you for this," Kingsley said. "I had gotten a new piece of information about the case from Auror Potter and I needed to review everything."

"You mean the Bewitched Contract?" Hermione smirked when she saw Kingsley's eyes widen in shock. "There is no secret that Harry has that I don't know about, Minister. But, don't worry. I don't plan on using it anytime. I can understand why you kept it a secret so long – it's a powerful magic."

Kingsley cleared his throat. "Well, thank Auror Potter for thinking it up."

Hermione smiled. She was proud of Harry for coming up a way to get more criminals behind bars.

"Is that all?" she asked politely, watching him go through the many papers she had stapled inside the folder.

"Yes, this is all," Kingsley nodded, flipping the folder closed and giving her an impressed smile. "I won't be needing your time as much anymore."

Hermione blinked. "Sir?"

"All of these evidences are enough for the day of the trial, Counselor Granger," Kingsley clarified. "With Carrow's statement - the witness - and your ally, we'll be taking the mickey out of this one. I won't be needing you in any more meetings now. All that's expected of you is to be there on court on time. You can go back to your regular schedule, staring today."

Hermione gaped in shock. For the past few weeks, she had spent her time gathering information, collecting evidence, going to meetings with the other counselors, healing Twinky, correcting regulations, approving or disapproving ownerships of certain magical creatures, sheltering magical creatures, and signing off ownership contracts with clients for a creature – her time had been consumed with various responsibilities coming at her from left and right that her day flies past her without her noticing it until she looks at a clock. But for her to hear that she is allowed to go home now to her previous hour, from seven-twenty to whenever she finishes her work, was unexpected and a bit foreign to her. Still, she was pleased.

"T-thank you!" she said after a moment of temporary shock. She did not mean to stutter but she was overjoyed with her new freedom, as she can say, that she cannot stop herself from looking gleeful.

Kingsley seemed amused by her response, making her blush in embarrassment by her outburst and fiddle with the hem of her sleeve, a habit she also had to break.

"How is your husband, by the way?" Kingsley asked kindly, tucking the folder within the stack of papers he had under his arm. "Last I heard, he's successful with a shop?"

"He's doing well," Hermione said. "The shop has grown – almost international now. He had signed a merging contract with Wako's Warehouse Incorporation and Laughing Taffy's Company so the sales are skyrocketing."

Kingsley's raised his eyebrows. "Wow. He must be quite the businessman then. I didn't really expect that from him. He showed to be the more brawns type."

"Ron is full of surprises," Hermione sighed. She knew that Kingsley was secretly speaking that he preferred her husband to have used his intelligence in the same field as Harry but she actually liked having Ron in a profession where she did not have to go through restless night of worriment or lack of focus over concern. She does not know how Ginny is able to go through the mental and emotional roller coaster daily when Hermione could hardly handle Harry hovering two feet from the ground on his broom.

"Sent him my best wishes," Kingsley said as he turned to head out of the office. "Right now, I need to go and get everything ready for the trial and later, a meeting with the Ambassador Wright."

Hermione bit her tongue to stop herself from even letting out a chuckle when she heard the displeasuring tone come out of the Minster's voice at the mentioning of his meeting. She knew how much he disliked having to speak to counselors of other countries in discussion over new amendments made to the alliance treaty. She had assisted him to several meeting with him before when they were in the process of turning over the pro-pureblood laws worldwide and she knew how dreadful the wait can be.

"Good luck," she told him before he disappeared out of her office.

However, before the door was shut closed, a red paper airplane came fluttering through the crack and soared towards her. She easily caught the folded parchment, accustomed to receiving so much messages weekly, and opened it up from its form before it hovered out of her hands, suddenly crinkled up into a form of a mouth. It was a Howler.

"Hermione," it started; Hermione instantly recognized the voice to be Fabian Rutter's, a member of her organization on the side, S.P.E.W. "I need you to come to the Macclesfield Forest. O have a bit of a situation here with a wizard who is trying to claim a newborn Hippogriff and he doesn't believe me to be part of an organization. He thinks I'm trying to steal it from him. Would you come down to talk to him? It'd be lovely. See you soon."

A minute later, the Howler was seen bursting into flames and fluttering down to Hermione's feet in ashes. She quickly pulled out her wand to cast the remains away before pocketing it and going to grab her cloak from the coat rake nearby. Since she did not have to attend any meetings for the Rowle case, her schedule was free from all except from signing papers all day, and her lunch hour had passed three hours ago. She could not remember the last time she needed to approach a negotiation regarding to S.P.E.W. but she was happy to know she was needed much to be there personally. She felt like she was going back to her earlier days.

Casting a quick Locking Charm on her door and slipping on her cloak, Hermione disapparated.

* * *

Hermione had never been to the Macclesfield Forest before. She had heard stories of camping trips from her co-workers and descriptions on its sight, but as soon as she landed on the grassy fields of the forest, she learned that all words of the people were pale in comparison to the view of tremendous beauty that is nature. Everything was elegantly green; the leaves of the trees fanned out greatly, giving her a good shade from the sun, moss covered the carved trunks, tree branches leaning over slightly the ground, and the grass, along with several bloomed flowers, were standing tall by the edges of an ocean blue lake that seemed to sparkle within the blazing sun.

It was a wonderland of unique green. The city was loud and busy but here it was calm and quiet. Hermione figured she found a new spot to come to whenever she wanted to read in peace now.

Hermione made her way through a thinning in the forest, and eventually, she found herself walking into a small meadow that was connected to a lawn of a wooden house, puffs of black smoke rising up from the stoned chimney on the side, and a is seen parked up front. She glanced up at the hazy light that was beaming through the leaves faintly; the trees keeping the small meadow casted over by grey shadows, letting buds of flowers become visible from within the hovering grass strands.

"Hermione!" a voice was heard; Hermione turned to the sound and saw the familiar floppy mop of Fabian's brown hair peeking out of the wooden house while he waved his arm excitedly at her. She quickly went over to him, twigs snapping and rocks crunched under her feet as she approached him. Once she stepped up the small stairs, she gave him a one-armed hug.

"It's been too long, Fabian," Hermione said as she let him go. "How's Nina?"

"She's good," Fabian grinned. "She says the baby is due sometime next week. Hope it's a bird."

"Good luck."

Fabian led her inside the house and Hermione instantly met with the smell of tobacco and peppermint as she followed him into the small living room. She noticed there were more ashtrays and pizza boxes scattered around than the picture frames on display. But what truly disturbed her were the mounted heads of deer and rabbits on the wall; it was truly barbaric.

When Fabian paused at the doorway, she stood by him and saw a bald man with a ghastly black beard that seem to hold crumbs of the food he eats, a plumb mouth with chapped lips, and a long nose with ridiculously big nostrils. He wore a plaid shirt, a pair of baggy of camo pants, and large boots. He was inhaling on a cigar while watching a program on a faulty television. Next to him, on a small round table, sleeping snuggly within the cracked shells of the egg, was a newly born Hippogriff.

Hermione glanced at Fabian uncertainly and saw him looking back at her sheepishly. She frowned before turning back to the man then cautiously stepped forward, hoping her feet were stomping loud enough on the wooden floor for him to hear her presence nearing him. He did not seem to react to the sound of her steps as he continued to watch the television disinterestedly and puffing out rings of smoke. She made sure to stay a foot away from him to avoid the smell from hitting her.

"Sir?" she called out.

The man lets out a grunt but he did not look away from the television.

"Sir, my name is Hermione Granger," she continued. "I'm the founder of the organization, S.P.E.W. I heard there seems to be some sort of conflict-"

"Yeah, I know who you are," said the man rudely while placing the cigar on the ashtray next to the Hippogriff egg. "What do you want?"

Hermione tried to ignore the fact that the faint smokes were deadly for the health of the infant creature but she knew that the only way she could get the Hippogriff away from the man was through words. She did not want to have to end up in a physical manner and end up having him reported to the Aurors were assault on a counselor. This was her area – not the Ministry. She spent years going through all kinds of problems with people such as this man without the involvement of the Ministry despite how little people thought of the organization's controlling abilities.

"One of my members told me that you refused to let him take the Hippogriff," Hermione explained. "Can I know why?"

"It's mine," the man said simply with a shrug. "I found it on my grounds and it hatched on my grounds. Therefore, it automatically makes my property."

Hermione frowned. "I'm afraid that's not how it goes. You see, if you want ownership on a magical creature, you'll need to show an official that your environment is beneficial enough for the creature and if you passed inspection then you will be given forms to complete the process. But," she glanced around the area skeptically. "I don't think it's possible."

The bald man scowled at her. "It hatched on my property so it makes it mine!"

Fabian stepped forward to protest but Hermione held out her hand and shook her head at him before she turned back to the man.

"What's your name, sir?" she asked in a calm voice.

"What's it to ya?"

Hermione smirked. "You're right – silly me for asking something I can easily find in less than a minute. But I should tell you who I truly am. You see, I am more than just a founder of this organization, I am also a member of the government – more specifically, the Department of Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures – therefore, I am an official and whatever creatures that comes to this world is automatically under my name unless ownership is in record, which is what you don't have. So, in other words, the name of your property means nothing."

The man did not say anything against her; he gave her a hard glare fueled with hatred and revulsion. The cigar and the television program long forgotten. Hermione seemed unfazed by his stare, often being caught in the receiving end of that distasteful look from many people, and she can tell that he was visibly bothered by her lack of response to his prejudice eyes.

Then the man broke his gaze, clicked his tongue, and waved his hand lazily at the Hippogriff. "Whatever."

Hermione stopped herself from allowing her shaking hand to slap the ungrateful man, not wanting to hear any gossip speculate throughout the Ministry. Wordlessly, she went to the Hippogriff and gently took the egg in her hands, the jerked movement making the young creature shriek in fear. She held the egg between a hand and her hip while she wandlessly transfigured the astray into a cotton blanket, much to the man's dismay.

"Hey!" he cried as Hermione handed the egg to Fabian and took the blanket from his table.

"Smoking is bad for you," Hermione said wittily before turning to the creature in Fabian's arm and tenderly wrapped the blanket around the wailing infant, carefully pulling it out of crack egg shells. "There, there little one," she cooed as she rocked it in her arms like it was her own baby, gently stroking its undeveloped feathers in order to soothe its anxiety. "You'll be home soon."

Fabian placed the egg shell on the floor and used his wand to making it vanish with a quick _Evanesco_. He pocketed his wand before he turned to the small creature, which was being slowly lured into a small slumber due to Hermione's rocking sensations and quiet humming. He looked over at the disgruntled man, whose face was painted in bright red of anger towards the brunette witch.

"Thank you for your cooperation, sir," he told to the bald man.

Hermione nodded, not exactly paying attention to the scowling man, as she continued to rock the small creature tenderly in her arms, watching it nod off to sleep to her gentle humming. She started to carefully walk out of the living room, ignoring the low murmurs of the bald man behind her, and made her way out of the house full of horrid odor and horrifying views of animal heads on the walls that made her skin crawl with unnerving shivers.

After she stepped out onto the lawn, she breathed in the fresh air of the trees and flowers in relief. The smell of tobacco and molded animal heads was making her feel faint. It was also bad for the health of the infant Hippogriff and she was glad to be able to take it away from the unhealthy environment. She did not want to think what the bald man had in mind if he ever taken custody over the small defenseless creature. She pondered what its gender is though. She moved the blanket a bit to peek down; males had six nipple buds like an average female animal of the Muggle world while the opposite have eight.

Hermione began to count the buds peeking through the small feathers as Fabian approached her and stood by her whilst he watched her counter under her breath. She knew she may seem odd from other perspective but she hardly cared. She was used to doing what she does without worrying over the words of another. Counting the last bud, Hermione stroked the tiny feathers with her fingertips with a grin, making the infant tingle in delight and cuddle deeper into her embrace.

"A girl. I think I'll call her…Agnes. It stands for purity," she explained to Fabian when she noticed the confused expression on his face then she grinned up at him slyly. "Could be a sign that your baby will be one too."

"I'll keep hope on that," Fabian laughed heartily. He nodded towards the Hippogriff. "What are we going to do with her? Take her to the health center or take her to the other Hippogriffs?"

"Health center," Hermione responded quickly. "She needs to be fed immediately and be inside a well-temperature area – they can't handle the cold at such a young age."

"Alright," said Fabian as he held his hands out. Hermione reluctantly placed the sleeping baby in his arms. "Thank you again for your help. I don't know how you do it."

Hermione waved him off. "Just doing my job. Take care of her."

"Will do."

Fabian sends her an encouraging and appreciative smile before he dissipated with a pop.

Hermione brought her wrist up to see the time on her dainty wrist watch. It was already six in the afternoon; Hugo and Lily must have gotten out of school and Molly probably picked him up for the day since Ginny did not come out until eight and Ron leaves the shop at eight-forty. She did not have to go back to the office because she had finished her paperwork for the day and Kingsley had relieved her from all meetings about the case starting today.

Lowering her wrist, Hermione smiled brightly. She will be able to finally go back to her son – to her husband – to her home. She closed her eyes as she pictured the home she had resided in for holidays throughout her Hogwarts years and the following after the war; fresh cut grass, warm atmosphere of a family room, a kitchen filled with delicious aroma, a large fireplace that promised heat during the wintertime, and a clock that tracked the whereabouts of a loved one.

Hermione felt herself being squeezed through the air as she disapparated.

* * *

As soon as she apparated herself inside the kitchen, she felt an uplift of her spirits at the familiar feel of a well-nurtured home, an inviting warmth to those who lived in it with a light heart, and a feel of happiness at the memories that flooded into her mind just by her standing there. She felt nostalgic. She did not come to the Burrow unless it was during the holiday season or a homecoming dinner for the kid's return from Hogwarts. The Weasleys usually come to her home or at the Potter house for the family dates because the dining table was big enough for the amount of family members that come and it can be extended if extra guests were brought along.

Hermione's ears perked when she heard the loud laughter of her son and niece coming from outside at the garden. She followed the continuous sound out back, instantly noticing that there were one-foot gnomes skipping around the field, grumbling enthusiastically. The garden was still alive and large like she remembered it to be with various flowers known worldwide, the great big green pond containing families of frogs, and the broomsticks shed was slightly open, where she can see a couple of gnomes sneak into.

Standing by the hedge, Hermione can see Molly instructing Hugo and Lily had to de-gnome the garden and the kids seem to be enjoying their time doing the daily chore that their grandmother has to deal with. She approached them quietly, wanting to be able to witness them, listening to Molly direct the proper way of de-gnoming.

"Okay, now hold it like this – that's it, dear," Molly said as the children held the small grumpy creatures upside down by their ankle. "Then you hold them up high over your head and whirl around like a lasso to make them all dazed and confused."

The obliged to their grandmother's words and were letting out giggles of elation as they went around in circles, the speed of their twirls inciting irritating yells from the struggling gnomes (Gerrof me! Gerroff me!) but they did not pay attention to their demands as they are finding delight in the entertaining chore. Hermione watched pleasantly with her arms crossed, enjoying the looks of joy free of despair and sadness.

"Okay, good and now…let them go!"

The kids released their holds on the gnomes; Lily's gnome flew over the hedge in twenty-two feet while Hugo's fell one foot shorter from hers. Both gnomes landed in heavy thuds on the field beyond the hedge.

"That was amazing, Gran!" Lily cheered happily as she stretched up on her toes to peer over the hedge. "They looked like bludgers!"

"I don't get why dad complained about that. It's wicked!," Hugo said with equal vigor as Lily. "Can we do more?"

Molly smiled. "I'm sure there's more around. Your grandfather is always so soft-" she paused at the sight of Hermione standing a few feet from them when she turned around and then she gasped, "Hermione, dear! I hardly noticed you there!"

Hermione grinned as her mother-in-law trapped her in one of her famous motherly hugs and she welcomed the affectionate gesture, wanting to bask in the feeling of loved because she had not had gotten the feeling for a while. She had also missed Molly; she was proper and adequate when she is under the roof of another but at her own home, she holds no boundaries to her parental ways whether it is advice or punishment.

"I didn't want to intrude," Hermione said as Molly lets go. "They seem to be having so much fun de-gnoming. I think you just helped me come up ways how to get Hugo to do his chores."

Molly laughed.

"Mummy!" shouted Hugo, breaking into the conversation.

Hermione took the moment to memorize the details that is being displayed before her; Hugo was sprinting to her with a wide grin shining a light of bliss towards her and his arms were opened for her. This is what made her push herself in her job daily, this was her motivation to go through what was being thrown at her from every way, this was her peace of mind – her son's smile and safety away from the ghosts of her past. Her lips twitched upward as she kneeled down to capture her son in her arms and embraced him tightly.

"Hi sweetheart," she said softly into his hair, peppering his head with multiple kiss until she reached his forehead and then held him by his shoulders.

"What are you doing here, mum?" Hugo asked curiously. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

 _Curious little one. He really is my son_ , Hermione grinned. "I should be but I finished my work for the day. In fact, I finished my work for good."

Hugo's posture changed from excitement to anticipation. He placed his hands on Hermione's shoulders and stared at her directly in her eyes – hopeful pale blue clashing with amused dark brown. Small giggles were heard coming from Lily and Molly, clearly entertained by the determined stare Hugo has pointed towards his mother.

"Mum," Hugo said in a firm voice that surprised Hermione. "Did you quit your job? Did you get sacked?"

The three females burst out into a laughing fit. Lily was mostly giggling because she found the look on Hugo's face humorous – Molly was chortling about the unnecessary intensity of Hugo's voice – and Hermione was cackling because she found it quite adorable of her son to act so curious yet concern over something that is not true.

"No, no," she said through her giggles. "But I am going to be coming home more often now. So we'll be able to spend more time together."

Hugo's eye became large. "Really?"

"Really."

Hugo pulled away from Hermione to jump around happily while pumping his small fists in the air, his red hair flaring around like flickering flame licks, and loudly cheered out his excitement. The sound of his yelps and whoops was high enough to bother the many garden gnomes that were hiding behind the Ford Angelia, underneath the hedges, and also within the shed, all of them shouting in union about how Hugo's shrieking was hurting their ears.

"That's one way to get them out," Molly mused, impressed.

"Bet I can throw another one harder than you can!" Lily challenged her cousin smugly.

"Bet I can do better!"

The two redheads hurried after the escaping gnomes. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley laughed at their competitive attitudes and enthusiastic energies.

"Everything is always a competition for those two," Hermione said.

"Can't imagine what would happen if they end up being in the same Quidditch team," Molly responded. "Especially Beaters."

Hermione grimaced. "Oh dear."

Molly chuckled.

Together, the two women made their way across the garden, following the small trail of footprints buried in the dirt of the ground of the kids as they watched them attempt to capture a gnome. The weather was exceptionally warm now, almost muggy under the small clouds passing by, despite the fact that they are now entering the autumn season. Hermione pulled off her coat and slung it over her shoulder.

"How is work?" Molly asked.

"It's good," Hermione said. "The trial isn't until next November but we've got all that we need. There isn't a single angle that Rowle can get an exit from."

"How did you manage that?"

"Intensive reading and thorough research," Hermione shrugged. "Of course, I had some help from Harry. He managed to get one of the Death Eaters he arrested to confess about Rowle's past. I don't think I could have found it if it weren't for him."

"Oh!" Molly sighed. "I hope Harry is alright. Ginny told me he left for a mission."

Hermione frowned and nodded. She really did not like talking about Harry knowing he was in the middle of standing on a line between life and death. She did not realize she brought him up until she heard Molly say his name.

"I can't believe he didn't come to say goodbye at least, that is unlike him," Molly said. "I hope he packed enough clothes and food – oh! I hope he writes. He knows how I get when I don't hear from him. Last time he went on a mission and didn't write I was in hysterics."

Hermione smiled slightly. "I agree with you. It was all at the last minute – very reckless of him to do, I might say. But it's only been a week, I'm sure we'll hear from him eventually."

She was not sure if she was trying to reassure her mother-in-law or herself. The both of them, as well as everyone else, were worried about Harry immensely during his travels and she was glad to see that she was not the only one who showed it fretfully, but it did not comfort her enough to not lose sleep over Harry. It actually made her fear for him more.

"Oh, I hope you're right," Molly said.

A squeal came from the other side of the garden and the two adults looked over to see Lily lung a gnome over the hedge, seeing it land two feet farther than her previous one. Hugo was struggling to pull out one from inside a bush.

"He acts more like his father," Molly pointed out with a small smile and her eyes became soft. "Ron struggled the first few times he de-gnomed. I swear he is like a replica of him."

Hermione chuckled yet the smile she had one was somewhat weak as she thought about Ron. To say she missed him was a statement but she truly wished she can go back to the way she used to be with him before – happy, free, and without a care in the world. She remembered how they used to have playful banters about their mistakes rather than actually arguing over them, how they used to spend any little time together simply talking in bed about their good memories instead of sleeping with their backs turned to the other, how they would see each other during lunch hours to childishly annoy each other at their workplace (mainly Ron to Hermione) but now the visits stopped, and how they would always manage to cherish each other at night in the art of making love. She missed all of that and wondered where those days went.

"He eats like him too," Hermione murmured solemnly.

"That is true!" Molly grinned, hardly noticing the draining vibe from her daughter-in-law. "I still wonder how he was able to eat that whole lamb that other night."

Hermione managed to smile before she heard a pop come from inside the house and footsteps thudded in their direction.

She and Molly turned around just as Arthur came out from the kitchen, muttering under his breath, "…kids these days have gotten so clever. I don't know how they're able to – oh! Hermione, I didn't know you were coming over today!" he exclaimed once he caught sight of the witch. He went over to Molly to give her a quick peck on the lips "Hello dear," and then went to the brunette to give her a crushing hug.

"I just came back from work," Hermione said as she pulled back from her father-in-law's embrace. "I came to pick up Hugo but I don't want to spoil his fun."

Arthur peered over at the other side of the garden and laughed, "Ah, de-gnoming. Those pesky little buggers will never leave."

"That's because you're too soft on them," Molly said as she swatted him in the arm. "If it weren't for that, we would have gotten rid of them a long time ago."

"But they're a nice little entertainment for the kids," Arthur protested. "Even you've got to admit that they were a nice distraction for the boys whenever they got rowdy."

Molly rolled her eyes but she was smiling.

"Mum!" called out Hugo and Hermione turned to see him standing by the hedge, holding up a disgruntled gnome at arm's length, grinning proudly. "Mum! Watch this!"

"Be careful!" Hermione warned nervously. She had her fair share of de-gnoming the garden with Ron and at her first attempt she had gotten bitten by the small foul creatures. She knew how razor-sharp their tiny teeth felt when gnawed on and she did not want the same to happen to her child. She was pleased to know he was wearing the gloves for protection.

Hermione watched her son go through the routine of de-gnoming and then looked at the wailing gnome fly over the hedge.

"Did you see that, mum? Did you see?" Hugo urged once the gnome landed into the green pond with a large splash. "Best throw yet!"

"That's great, honey!" Hermione said optimistically while thinking, _Poor frogs_.

"That's nothing!" Lily scoffed. "Watch this!"

The young red-haired witch repeated the process and the gnome flew over the hedge then landed into the pond close to where Hugo's fell into. Ripples were created as families of frogs swam away from the sputtering gnome.

"Bah, I can throw another one harder than that!" Hugo said.

"Bet'cha can't!"

The competitive cousins raced across the garden to look for more gnomes.

"You know if they were Muggles, they would have made a nice ball-thrower," Arthur nodded. "Might even make it to the leagues."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You mean a baseball pitcher?"

"So that's what it's called!" Arthur said. "You know I've got someone in the Ministry who is a Muggle-born and he told me this fascinating story about baseball. His cousin used to play it. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"I'm familiar with the sport, yes," Hermione giggled. She always found it hilarious how easily thrilled Mrs. Weasley would get over something that is considered common in the Muggle world but she enjoyed how much he valued the little things of what she is.

"It's a sport?"

"Yes."

"Well, you must tell me more about it. Let's talk it over a cup of tea."

Hermione hesitated. She was not exactly an athletic person; she did not really know much about sports of either world as she finds them barbaric and not exactly enchanting. She did know a bit about baseball but only from hearing snippets of her father talking about them over a family dinner. Aside from the little pieces, she did not know anything about teams or statuses.

However, before she could protest, Mr. Weasley had already taken her by the arm and pulled her back inside the house where they began a failed talk about a sport that neither hardly knew over a cup of sweet tea.

* * *

Her time at the Burrow had lasted longer than she intended it to be but she had enjoyed spending time with just her in-laws and the children again. Mrs. Weasley had insisted her to stay over for a snack before her departure with Hugo and Lily – three plates of chocolate cookies, two bowls of sliced fruits, and a couple of cups of tea prone to be more than enough to make the kids too stuffed to even move out to the garden again.

Hugo and Lily had crashed sporadically in the living room while Hermione would continue to try to explain the rules of baseball to Mr. Weasley – and failing miserably – and Mrs. Weasley stayed in the kitchen to clear off the table. The time passed by like a blur. Lily and Hugo had woken up from their name, bickering over whether Jet Lee or Jackie Chan were a better fighter in martial arts – Hermione made a mental note to hide the karate movies that Ron had gotten – and Arthur had finally managed to understand the sport miraculously through Hermione's attempts.

By the time Hermione had finally left, it was seven-ten. She sent the kids up to the living room to do their homework, which she knew they would not do unless she kept an eye on them, and she went to have a nice shower. She was glad for the small time she had to herself, having need to take up the time to process the fact that she was actually spending the remains of the day with her son after nearly a month and a half has passed. It was overwhelming for her to be true that she had to muffle the sounds of her sobs with her hand as she wept in joy against the tile wall, the tears mixed with the water whilst lingering over her gleeful grin, and a couple of chuckles escaping from here and there. She did not care if she looked insane, she was just too happy to have a care.

The shower was longer than she anticipated. By the time she left the bathroom, freshly freshed and hair nearly dried, it was two minutes till eight. The kids hardly finished a quarter of their homework as they were watching reruns of Disney shows but she pestered them to do their work by "threatening" to permanently shutting off the television and they were furiously scribbling in their notebooks. Hermione chose to prepare dinner in the meantime. Through her time when she would assist Kingsley during meetings with the International Confederation of Wizards, she had learned several dishes from the many countries she visited. The most she enjoyed to do were Japanese recipes because they are less fattening and helped her children's growth spurt maintain adequate.

The best she knew to do well were onigiri and katsudon. She had connections with the food markets of Diagon Alley to get the proper ingredients from Japan through a food vendor, Takaku Tobimasu, she stayed in contact with from her travels to Iwakura. Ironically, he also had connections to an employer who worked with the developers of the Yajirushi brooms that she gave to Hugo and Rose for Christmas. She was shocked to learn that Hugo was very much like her at his age and Rose was similar to Ron. Hugo loved to play and talk about Quidditch with his sister and father, and he always complained about having so much homework and needing to study for exams, but he enjoyed to sit back and listen to audiobooks of novels that seem too advanced for a child of his age. Rose was the same. She was a decent student because she "inherited her brains" in Ron's words but she did not read as much as Hugo and would skive off to play a field game with Ron.

Hugo looked and acted like Ron but he has Hermione's interests in books and learning. Rose looked and acted like Hermione but she has Ron's interest in Quidditch. It was odd how Hermione and Ron's personalities clashed and split into two.

Hermione was cutting the tonkatsu into strips when she heard two pops echo from the foyer and then two sets of footsteps separated, one heading to her while the other went to the living room. She glanced up once the sounds ceased by the doorway and she saw Ron leaned against the frame, arms crossed, and his face open of his shock to see her here.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Ron murmured. "Why are you so home early?"

"It was a slow day," said Hermione as she added dashi, soy sauce, a pinch of sugar, sake, and mirin into the frying pan then she placed a slice of tonkatsu in the sauce. "No meetings – I finished enough reports for the day – and I just rescued a baby Hippogriff from what seems to be a lumberjack."

"Oh." Ron nodded. His voice was slightly wary as he asked, "What's for supper?"

"Katsudon and onigiri. It's a Japanese dish" Hermione answered afterwards when she saw he looked puzzled.

"Another foreign meal. Okay."

Hermione licked her lips, suddenly feeling her throat dry. "Why are you home from work so early?"

"Slow day," Ron said. "And George closed up early. Angelina was feeling a bit peaky today."

"Oh, okay. I hope she feels better."

"Same here."

Ron seemed to feel uncomfortable standing in the kitchen watching Hermione wander around; he lumbered over to the living, most likely to watch a Muggle program while she worked. It lessen the tension in the moment of the atmosphere. She was steaming up the rice while she let the tonkatsu fry, and then beat eggs in a bowl to pour it over the tonkatsu.

A few minutes later, Ginny emerged. She was holding hands with Lily, who had a somber pout and lazily clutching on the strap of her back bag.

"Hey," Ginny said. "Thanks for picking up Lily."

"No problem. Are you staying for supper?"

"No," Ginny shook her head. "I'm thinking of turning in early. It's been a long day. I have to wake up early to take Lily to school too."

Hermione nodded in agreement but noticed Lily's utter look of dejection and she felt her lips twitch at her pleading bright brown eyes towards her, almost as if she was silently begging her to convince her mother to let her stay longer. She clearly was having a wonderful time with Hugo and she was used to staying longer than usual at their house.

"Hey, cheer up, Lily Bear," Hermione said with a smile. "You'll be back again."

"Daddy won't be home," Lily blurted out.

The smile fell from Hermione's face and she glanced at Ginny to see her sigh in defeat as she gently stroke Lily's hair. How far the depths of her missing her father were was unknown to Hermione, but she can understand her fairly as she missed her father too. To have the man who works hard to provide food on the table, cloths on her back, unconditional love, and treatment of a princess, so away for so long was painful. A father will forever be the first man in a daughter's life that no one can replace. Hermione understood Lily on that bit better than Ginny or Ron could right now.

Hermione kneeled in front of the small ginger and combed back the few strands of hair that had fallen over her freckled face. Her cheeks were slightly pink and her nose was starting to look pink – Hermione knew she was on the verge to cry.

"Tell you what," Hermione said. "How about next time you stay over, you can borrow Rose's Yajirushi and show me some tricks your father taught you. He told me that you've gotten better than before."

Lily's eyes shined in elation. "He did?"

"Absolutely," Hermione smiled. "Do you think you can show me? I'd love to see it myself."

Lily nodded vigorously, her lips stretching into a large smile that Hermione was happy to see.

"Good." Hermione held her young niece's head in her hands as she leaned forward to give her forehead a sweet kiss and then straightened up from her knees. She looked over at Ginny to see her giving her a grateful smile.

 _Thank you_ , she mouthed.

Hermione shrugged, _No problem_.

"Say goodbye to Aunt Hermione," said Ginny to Lily. "I need to start on my report on the Wimbourne Wasps. They beat the Tutsill Tornadoes in the semi-finals."

Hermione nodded, not really interested. Quidditch never really something she found speaking about. She only tolerated it in Hogwarts because she was supporting Harry and later Ron but she never grew only love for it.

Lily gave Hermione a quick hug around her waist before she returned to Ginny, who gave Hermione a squeeze on the shoulder, and then they left the kitchen. Hermione stood for a moment of silence, listening to their feet stomp over to the foyer, and a second later, a pop surfaced through the walls.

Hermione sighed. She loved having Lily over because she found her competing demeanor with Hugo to be lively to watch and it reminded her of the times when Rose would battle with Hugo with various activities whether it is racing, video games, or tossing the Quaffle as far as the other. Lily filled the small void that Rose left behind and Hermione would feel her family is whole again with that small space gone.

Hermione turned back to the stove to finish preparing dinner.

* * *

Food was finished an hour later. Hermione had called in Ron and Hugo for dinner and they sniffed appreciatively as they walked into the dining room. It was anything but quiet during dinner as Hugo told his parents about him trying out for the soccer team, saying that the coach saw potential in him due to his incredible speed and fast reflexes with the ball. Ron, being a complete athletic supporter and having recently learned the rules of the sport, was really entranced by the fascinating adventure that he suggested going to one of his practices after school.

Ron told them about an incident that happened in the shop with a kid attempting to open up a pack of stink pellets and ended up tainting the building with its horrific odor. He and George had to give the customers a free product but they were able to sell more stink pellets to the ones who loved the effects and make up for the loss of money.

Hermione told them about her rescuing the baby Hippogriff and that she had it sent to a health center to be properly nurtured. Hugo did not know about the center and Hermione had to explain how they clean it between its feathers, clip off its talons, polish its beak, groom its fur, and feed it with a formula. She even told him the story when she, Harry, and Ron met their first Hippogriff, Buckbeak, in their third year for Care of Magical Creatures Class, and how she and Harry flew on Buckbeak to save his godfather, Sirius.

When dinner was over, Hermione could not explain how the food could disappear still when they were hardly focusing on eating but talking about their days and what is about to come up. Hugo went to finish the last of his homework then study for a math exam and Ron had gone upstairs to take a shower. Hermione cleared the table and cleaned the dishes.

The whole time during dinner, Hermione could not stop looking at Ron's direction. She was trying to find any sign on whether there was a change between them through his eyes or body language but she was not able to notice anything different. He seemed normal. Cracking up jokes, laughing at the right time, and giving brusque comment once in a while that would have Hugo cackle. He was the same as usual which made Hermione question deliberately.

Are they okay now? Were they back to normal? Are all their problems suddenly gone? Or was he waiting until later to talk about it? Hermione did not know and she did not like it. She could not remember a time when she would look at Ron and not know what is going through his mind, aside from the first few months in sixth year.

Hermione went to the living room after she was done with the dishes and when she entered, she saw Hugo furiously ripping out a sheet of paper from his notebook and crumbling it up into a ball before he tossed it away. She stood by the entrance for a minute as she watched him run his fingers through his hair frustratingly and angrily grumbling under his breath before she approached him at the couch.

"What's wrong, honey?" she asked tentatively as she perched herself next to him and wrapped an arm around his hunched frame, gently rubbing his back in circles.

"I can't understand this homework," Hugo murmured. "I can't read because the letters are so confusing and it gives me a headache."

Hermione frowned. At the age of six, Hugo's English teacher, Mrs. Welsh, had called Hermione and Ron out of concern for his poor participation in class, being unable to read correctly, write letters well, or to spell a word right and expressed her opinions in suggesting him to be taken to a doctor. They complied in fear of him having a disease but once they had gotten him checked out, the doctor revealed that Hugo had been showing symptoms of dyslexia. From there on, Hermione had done research on ways to help a child with dyslexia and helped Hugo through his various subjects until he was able to do the work on his own. He was able to hear well, pronounce words the right way, completing sentences, his writing abilities improved, and he was able to become more coordinated in soccer or other various sports. It had been four years since he had struggles.

"Let me see," Hermione said while reaching for the assignment sheet and her eyes roamed over the information quickly. "You need to write an essay on why Abraham Lincoln was considered the best president of the United States."

"Oh," Hugo muttered.

"Don't worry, I'll help you," Hermione said. She reached for his bag to take out his history textbook and started to flip through the pages, searching for the section of 1861. "You remember the steps I taught you?"

"Yes."

"Have you been using it?"

"Not for a while, no. I've been struggling with English and History. The teachers want me to get a tutor."

Hermione pursed her lips. She could not believe so much had been going on with her son and she did not know. She felt ashamed of herself; she could have been there to help him with his schoolwork but she had been in the Ministry because of a criminal. She wondered how many times Hugo must have tried to ask her for her help when he could and she did not noticed. She did not want to disappoint him as his mother like she did with Rose. She would need to remind herself that she needed to thank Kingsley for relieving her from responsibilities of the case until the day of the trial. She hoped it was enough time to reconnect with Hugo.

Hermione ran her fingers through his blazing red hair. "Well, we'll just have to make sure you don't need one, don't we? Don't worry, sweetie. I'm here now."

Hugo smiled at her tearfully, a pink blush coloring from his neck to the tip of his ears. Then he lunged forward to wrap his arms around her waist and bury his face in her chest as his body shook, a few sounds of muffled sobs heard being breathed into her shirt. Hermione placed the book aside to wrap her arms around his trembling figure and gently stroking his head, running her nails across his scalp, while the other hand ran over his back. She can feel her eyes sting and see her vision become somewhat blurry as she comforted him.

"I muphed yuu, mum!" he cried into her chest, his words jumbled and ragged but Hermione understood him perfectly.

The tears in her eyes fell over and her face was soon wet. A swell of hope bubbled up in her heart at his words. She knew now she had a chance to make things right again between them. To her, this was a sign that she will be able to put together the shattered pieces of her relationship with her kids and mold together the cracks in her marriage with Ron. For her to hear Hugo say he longed to be near his mother again had left her choked up in her emotions. She was happy he missed her, that he wished for his mother with him again instead of ignoring her existence, and that he still saw her as his mother.

Hermione buried her face in his hair, letting her tears fall into the roots. "I missed you too," she whispered so quietly that she questioned if he heard her as he continued to cry into her chest.

The tightening sensation of his arms around her waist told her that he did.

* * *

After they finished Hugo's homework, Hermione made sure that he was ready for bed as he has school the next morning – brushing and flossing his teeth, washing his face. She had checked her bedroom to see Ron was already sleeping peacefully in his sweatpants and she lightly pecked on goodnight on the cheek before she went to meet up with Hugo in his room. He was pulling the Spiderman shirt over his head when she entered the room and made her way to the small bookshelf near the window.

"What do you want me to read today?" Hermione asked as he crawled into bed.

"Hmm," Hugo mused whilst he pulled the covers over his legs and he leaned against the many fluffy pillows. "Can you read to me _The Great Gatsby_?"

Hermione smiled and took the requested book from the bookshelf before she went over to the bed. Hugo did have books appropriate for children of his age but he had grown a love for books with longer paragraphs and no pictures. He enjoyed adult literature. Hermione would buy the types of books she knew did not have any sexual scenes or innuendos and they would bond over the magnificent world they read.

The single bed was not large enough to for two people, which caused Hermione to have Hugo lean against her and hold the book open for her on his lap. She can see the look of contentment on Hugo's face as she brought her arms around his to flip the pages to the first chapter and she smiled at the sight.

" _In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since…"_ she began to read.

The Great Gatsby was a simple story taken place in the summer of 1922. It is narrated by a Yale graduate student and World War l veteran from the Midwest named Nick Carraway, who takes a job in New York as a bond salesman. He rents a small house on Long Island, in the village of West Egg, next door to the lavish mansion of Jay Gatsby, a mysterious millionaire who holds extravagant parties but does not participate in them and a man who was still very much in love with Nick's cousin, Daisy Fay, but the main conflict was her husband, Tom Buchanan, another millionaire who lives in East Egg.

It was a simple love story with a tragic ending but Hugo loved the usage of vocabulary that the author used.

"… _his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it_ ," Hermione was reading the finally paragraph when she was interrupted by a small, light snore on her shoulder and she glanced at Hugo to see that he had fallen asleep. She carefully slipped the book from his loose grasps with one hand, and then slowly pulled him off of her to gently lower him onto the bed then pulled the covers up to his chin.

"Good night, love," she whispered as she dipped down to kiss his forehead and went to return the book back on his bookshelf.

"He fell asleep by the time you reached Gatsby being revealed."

Hermione started at the sound of her husband's voice and she whirled around to see him standing by the open door, leaning against the frame by his shoulder, and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He had an amused smirk but his eyes held a bitter glint within his pupils as he watched her walk towards him.

"How long you've been there?" Hermione asked.

"Not long," Ron said. He nodded towards their sleeping son. "Haven't seen him sleep like that in a while. I never liked reading those books to him. Never understood them."

Hermione looked at the breathing form of her child and smiled. "You know he never liked children's books since he was six. He loves reading things out of his reach and learning new vocabulary."

"Sounds like you," Ron pointed out.

Hermione grinned. She never stopped looking at Hugo as he slept, wanting to take in the sight of him being at peace and relaxed. She needed to remember this feeling of being in the same room as her little miracle of life – wanted and belonged. She peered up at Ron, who was looking down at his shuffling feet.

"Ron," she whispered and held her breath as he turned to her. "Will we be okay again?"

Ron's face was expressionless. Hermione felt anxiety fire up inside her at his silence, her mind running at the possibilities of what kind of thoughts are going through his head at the moment. It was unlike him to not answer right away, especially after years of endless banters between them and witty remarks of what caught his eye, but she needed to be patient with him. The topic of them was fairly sensitive now; with her unexpected return and their first night together without causing a conflict left them muddled in how they should react with each other now.

Then, after a minute or two, Ron moved behind her to wrap his arms around her slim waist and held her closely to him, her back molding with his chest. Hermione, being cautious and curious, kept her arms crossed to see what he was truly telling her. Her breath hitched when she felt him move her hair to the side, plant a light kiss on the nape of her neck, and then resting his chin on her shoulder, pressing his cheek against hers.

Hermione did not move to see the look on his face. She knew that, although they were similarly enjoying the physical intimacy they had lost for the past month, she was not entirely forgiven for the loss of time she missed. She was welcomed back to her home, to her family, but the hurt of her insults to him as well as him to her were fresh and deep like war scars, and it would take time and strong effort for it to be healed.

Hermione understood but it was not his missed affections that left her breathless and speechless. Her throat was dry at the confusion she felt because when he held her and kissed her, she did not feel the tingles in her stomach that always came with his touches.

And that scared her to no end.

* * *

 **PTS (Post Traumatic Stress):** is an anxiety disorder that can develop after a person is exposed to one or more traumatic events, such as sexual assault, warfare, traffic collisions, terrorism or other threats on a person's life.[1] Symptoms include disturbing recurring flashbacks, avoidance or numbing of memories of the event, and hyperarousal, continue for more than a month after the occurrence of a traumatic event.

 **A:N:** One thing I doubted when I read the final HP was that Harry was able to live a normal life right away. He had experienced death more than others, in my opinion, and for them to not get to him after war seemed highly impossible. People are bound to crack under that much weight and Harry was the first out of many to kill a person with his own hands (literally) in the Sorcerer's Stone (Philosopher's Stone) and at such a young age too. He was still considered a child still and these things affect people in his age greatly. So I know Harry must have suffered this disorder after the war but with the help of his friends, he was able to get through it.

 **Please Review!**


	14. The Upcoming

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned

* * *

 _I felt it all_

 _I felt it all_

 _She left with the change in the leaves_

 _Through the fall_

 _Through it all_

 _On the ground which was taken from me_

\- The Fall; Ritual

* * *

 _"In the confrontation between the stream and the rock, the stream always wins - not through strength but by perseverance."_

\- H. Jackson Brown Jr.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: The Upcoming**

Hermione's life has been consumed with a new sense of liveliness. All that she loved were slowly coming back to her – helping Hugo with his homework, cooking meals with Ron on the days they were off of work, reading to Hugo for bedtime, and having longer conversations with Ron without any awkwardness. The core of it all she loved the most. The relationship between her son and husband reminded her of the brotherhood between Ron, Harry, and Fred. The sisterhood she shared with Ginny seemed to have evolved as they spent more time together during lunch hours and moments alone after family dinners. Not being a flashy person by any means, Hermione loved the simplicity and the wildness altogether. Ron had laughed when she mentioned it, but the more effort they spent on their marriage, the more carefree they were becoming again. Hermione would get to see the open side of her family she grew to love.

A lot of her time at work was spent in the health center at the headquarter of S.P.E.W to help take care the Agnes back to health. The fumes of the man's cigar had entered her system and her vitals were not functioning properly. Specific potion shots, which were required by Mediwizards, were needed to be given to her twice a day, three bowls of water needed to be given per every meal of the day, and long hours of sleep was enough to back Agnes strong again. It was working, to Hermione's relief. And the baby Hippogriff had grown attached to Hermione during her time caring for it; she would flap her wings ecstatically once Hermione enters the room or she would let out tiny shrieks of excitement and Hermione enjoyed the sight pleasantly as she had grown to love the small creature as much as she loved Crookshanks. She hoped the half-Kneazle never finds that out.

Hermione would try to finish her shifts for the day to be able to pick up Hugo from his soccer practices, help him with his homework or study for an exam, and to spend time in the kitchen. With a house filled with two ravenous boys who have stomachs big enough for a family of five, she needed all the help she can get even if it is from one of the two boys. She taught him had to do bangers and mash dish, and a few traditional Japanese meals she knew. Sometimes she would bring Hugo with her when she visits her father in the hospital and she would sit behind with her mother while she watched him talk to his grandfather as if he was awake. The doctors have said that he was stable but showed no signs of waking up soon. She is sadden at the lack of results of her father progressing for the better but she found relief to know that he was not suffering through any more unknown disease or sickness.

Hermione made sure to keep her visits to her mother frequent, not want her to be alone in the house full of memories of the man she spent decades with. Ron would come with her as well. Hugo enjoyed seeing his grandmother; he loved being spoiled with her oatmeal cookies and playing the old mystery board games Hermione used to play with her parents in his age. Her mother did not mind their company, as Hermione expected, and she was grateful.

From what Hermione heard from her mother, Carol spent her days buried in her work at the dental office working on client's teeth and speaking with her secondary school best friend and Hermione's godmother, Trudy Martin, on the phone. Hermione had not heard from her godmother ever since she had moved to Puerto Rico in 2010 to work on the functions of the educational department. She seemed to be doing well with herself in the small island.

Hermione felt at peace again to know that everything was beginning to go back to normal in her home life.

Presently, Hermione was in her bedroom with Ron going through Hugo's current homework and reviewing the reports on Agnes from S.P.E.W while Ron was organizing customer's orders of his products and preparing lists of new supplies needed to be refilled. Hugo was taking a bath as Hermione can hear him shouting out unintelligible words from down the hall; she knew he was playing with his bathroom toys and imagining an adventure in there. She knew soon she would need to get him to go to bed or he would spend an hour in the bathtub.

Hermione had a pretty sizable chunk of Agnes' eyesight reports to analyze but she could not focus. Hugo's loud speeches were a distraction, not to mention the scratching of Ron's quill on the parchment beside her and him mumbling under his breath once in a while. The AC was higher than necessary as they are already in autumn and it gets incredibly cold. There was also a horrid kink in her neck for being in the same hunch position for a long time.

Hermione glanced at Ron from the corner of her eye, watching him as he reached for his inkpot and dipped his quill in it. He had liked to not wear shirts ever since they had gotten their first apartment together, like now, and she can see his muscles strain strained by the length. His physique was decent, everything about him was tangible and would ripple with every movement he made with his arms. Although, he had gotten a small beer belly. She will need to remind him to cut off the amount of liquid whenever he went to the pub with George.

As she observed him, she wondered how many times she had him being the last person she sees before bed. When was the last time she ever looked at him before going to sleep? With her engulfed in his arms after a blissful night together? It has been too long for her.

Ron grunted and Hermione stared at his face as his lips twitched. His eyes flickered over the parchment as he continued to write.

"I know I'm quite dashing but that doesn't mean you have to stare at me all night," he said, his voice teasing.

"I-I was not!"

Hermione's cheeks blushed brightly as she quickly returned her gaze to her reports and Hugo's homework, burying her face in the pages. She can hear Ron quietly chuckling. He was not exactly the safest person to be around when she had moments like this. Being the lovable and pestering ginger he is, he would have an opportunity to tease her to no end.

"Sure, you weren't," Ron said sarcastically.

Hermione meekly lowered the papers down to her lap just to see him climbing out of bed and letting out a groan as he stretched his stiffed muscles. He turned to her.

"I'm going to the kitchen for a drink. You want anything?"

"Um…" Hermione clicked her tongue, biting her lip for a second and glanced at the sheets of paper on the covers before she turned back to him with a smile. "Pink lemonade, if there is some."

"Alright," he nodded. He gave her a quick kiss on the crown of her head and left the room for their drinks.

Hermione returned to the papers then, feeling a bit confused. She felt the same as she did the night he held her again and kissed her neck: nothing. No usual butterfly fluttering in her stomach, no acceleration in her heartbeat, no goose bumps, or not thrilling sensation when he kissed her head. She did feel an ounce of joy to see him act differently towards her now that she was coming home often and also a pinch of alleviation to see that they were slowly going back to how they were before the Rowle case overtook her time.

It never escaped her mind how bizarre she is being when it comes to her feelings towards Ron. She pegged it to be due to the short distance they had. She knew that reconnecting with someone again was going to take time and for their relationship to be reestablish was to be taken at a delicate route back to normalcy. She knew now that all those times Ron had yelled at her were merely out of frustration and exhaustion but mostly his way of trying to connect with her – he obviously wanted it as much as she did.

She did not let any panic rise in her as she thought that perhaps Ron was feeling the same numbness towards her too. He was stiff whenever he touched her and his kisses to her would be swift in a millisecond like the one he gave her recently. He was trying to be as affectionate with her as he used to be but he had gotten acquainted to fighting with her as soon as they're under the same roof in one month that the years they shared together seemed to have vanished and they were back to how they were in the beginning of their first year.

Hermione tried to not overthink about it. Eventually they will get through the rough patch they're on and recoil. If what they have was not worth anything anymore then they would not be trying to fix it together. Yet Hermione could not make herself concentrate on the reports and it was beginning to frustrate her. She was tempted enough to drop everything and join Ron in the kitchen where they could not be disturbed from what possibilities that may ensue but the logical part of her was keeping her grounded. She did not need to go through the worries of being caught by her son in a compromising position.

"Hey mum!"

Hermione glanced up instinctively at her son's voice and then she let out an aghast gasp at what she saw standing at the door; Hugo was standing there, dripping from head to toe, forming a puddle by his feet, completely bare. He was holding his Avengers action figures and his darkened hair was stuck to his forehead.

" _Hugo Weasley!_ " Hermione shrieked. " _Why are you walking around the house completely starkers?"_

Hugo grinned sheepishly. "I forgot my towel."

"And why didn't you call me to get it, young man?" Hermione asked, appalled.

"I did but you didn't hear me," Hugo answered casually. "I called you five times, mum."

"Oh," Hermione blushed embarrassingly. "Erm…well, go to your room and get dressed before you catch a cold. I'll read to you soon. And no running!" she added once she saw the mischievous smirk on his face; he only ever had it whenever he was about to act devious and he knew that her main rule in the house was no running.

Hugo pouted childishly and trudged away from the door, grumbling. Hermione can his feet pattering down the hall to his bedroom. She reached for her wand under her pillow and pointed it at the small puddle while muttering, "Scourgify" before it vanished completely. She shoved her wand back under her pillow and started to gather up her paper sheets.

Ron came back whilst she placed the stacks of paper on her nightstand holding two cool glasses and handed her the one with her pink lemonade before he settled himself next to her on the bed, already taking a few sips of his pumpkin juice.

"Did I just see Hugo starkers on the way back here?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione mumbled. "He forgot his towel."

Ron grinned. "Sure he did. Liar. I brought him his towel a few minutes ago."

"Ron," Hermione groaned. "Tell me you're not letting him have that habit of yours too. Remember Lily stays over. Last thing I need is her telling Ginny that our son is walking around bare all willingly. They're close but not _that_ close. We don't need to traumatize her."

"I don't know what you're going on about," Ron said with a shrug before taking another sip of his beverage.

Hermione arch a brow. "Need I remind you when we used to live together with Harry? You would walk around starkers half of the time. No decency whatsoever."

"You didn't seem to mind," Ron pointed out wittily. "Harry sure as hell didn't."

"That's because you two have the same parts – you're men," Hermione said. "I was the only girl living there."

"Again – you didn't seem to mind."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just don't pass it down to our son. _Please_."

"Fine, fine," Ron said. Then he let out a deep yawn. "I'm exhausted," he murmured, rolling his shoulders. He placed his glass on the nightstand before he began to sluggishly collect his papers. "You think you can give me a massage? I'm pretty sore."

"Later," said Hermione as she placed her lemonade on the table and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I promised Hugo I'd read to him."

Ron nodded, pursing his lips.

Automatically, Hermione leaned over to kiss him on the cheek before she got out of bed and left the bedroom to head to Hugo's room. When she got there, the room was nearly dark with only the desk lamp giving the walls a warm, yellowish glow. The star-designed curtains were drawn, a thin streak of moonlight peeking in from outside. She saw that Hugo had already dressed himself in his pajamas and he was kneeling before his bookshelf, muttering under his breath whilst he trailed his finger over the spine of many novels he owned.

Hermione smiled at the concentrated look painted on his face and stepped inside. "Have you chosen one yet?"

"Not yet," Hugo murmured. "I'm stuck between George Orwell and Jack Kerouac."

"Ooh, that is a tough choice," Hermione said. "How about tonight we read something simple for once? It's already past your curfew anyway."

"But mum," Hugo groaned dramatically. "There's not school tomorrow – it's Saturday!"

"That's no excuse to lose sleep," Hermione retorted smartly. "Now come on, off to bed. Let's read some Katherine Paterson."

"Bridge to Terabithia, please."

"Okay."

Hugo hopped to his feet and practically flew across the room to hurl himself onto his bed while Hermione went to pick out the book from the bookshelf. As she went to join Hugo at his bed, she glanced down at the cover of the book; it was of a boy leaning against large tree looking at a distance and a girl sitting on a boulder while reading a book. She felt herself frown as she stared at the girl. She reminded her mostly of Rose when she was young and she read so much. She used to be able to read three books in one day if she was obsessed with a series.

Hermione remembered the last memories she shared with Rose before the distance. She had taken her to an old park she used to go to at her age with her parents and they sat together by the swing set. Hermione would read to Rose her favorite novel, _Perks of being a Wallflower_ , while Rose swung about beside her, asking her once in a while what a word meant or questioned the action of the character. Rose had grown in love with the book like Hermione did and would request it to be read to her nightly – she never got tired of it. She remembered how ecstatic Rose reacted when she heard they released a movie version of the film in 2012 – she was nearly in tears.

But Hermione and Rose never got to see the movie together. Because that is when the distance between them had gotten too great.

Hermione sighed as she climbed on bed next to Hugo, who nestled against her chest and held the book open on his lap. This book was different from the others. Unlike the modern novels that Hugo normally loved to read, Hermione had casted a charm on the children books to make the pages come to life as they're being read. It was entertaining for Hugo and Lily but enough to lure them to sleep. As soon as Hugo flipped to the first page, an image of the protagonist sliding out of bed immediately appeared in a hazy glow.

Hugo noticed his mother's stare.

"Are you okay, mum?" he asked curiously.

"Hm?" Hermione blinked and looked at him with a weary smile. "Oh yeah, of course. I'm just a bit tired. I need to wake up tomorrow early."

"Why?"

"I need to see how Agnes is doing."

"The baby Hippogriff?" Hugo asked excitedly. "Can I come? Please! I wanna go!"

"Do you now?" Hermione smirked at his enthusiasm.

Hugo nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes. I wanna see the Hippogriff. Can I? I promise to be good. I'll behave. Please, mum."

"Alright, alright, you can come," Hermione chuckled. "But we need to get up early and that's not going to happen if we're up all night."

"Okay!"

Hermione laughed lowly at her son as he made himself comfortable again against his mother and held the book high enough for her to see. She leaned back into the pillows and began to read the first paragraph, " _Ba-room, ba-room, ba-room, baripity, baripity, baripity, baripity. Good. His dad had the pickup going…"_

As she continued to read the story, Hermione's mind lingered back to Rose, to the times when she would read stories for her in the park and she would urge Hermione to read her to sleep, and her heart contradicted strongly at the thought of her firstborn. She misses her terribly and she wondered what the young girl could be thinking of at the moment.

She hoped Rose was thinking of her like she is to her.

* * *

The next morning Hermione felt incredibly warm, almost boiling. When she woke up, her thoughts were still hazy, still twisted up in dreams of holding a baby girl with tiny flaming hair and she had dried tears on her face; it took her longer than it should to realize she was back in her room.

She could feel it was earlier than she planned to be awake by how heavy her eyelids felt, struggling to maintain her vision hidden from the gray light streaking through the small gap of the shielding curtains. It stung her eyes a bit. She did an attempt to roll out of bed but then she realized Ron's heavy arm was lazily hung over her waist and a turf of orange was curled on next to her head on the pillow – she was stuck.

She felt Ron shift behind her with a disgruntled groan and grumbled as he slipped his arm off her.

"Sorry," she whispered. She felt horrible for waking him up so early on his day off. She moved to her side to face him, her arms tucked closely to her chest.

"Why are you up? It's too early," he whispered back.

Hermione lifted her head up to glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw that it was only five-eleven in the morning. She did not need to wake up until seven-twenty to head to the health center.

"Didn't mean to," she said quietly while laying her head back down.

"Go back to sleep then." Ron threw his arm over her again and pulled her closer to him. One hand was firmly on the small of her back and lazily weaving his fingers through the tangles of her hair.

Hermione sighed as she closed her eyes, trying to focus on the feather-light stroking of his hands in her hair, wanting to fall back into the land of slumber. She felt his lips press down on her forehead as he began to trace shapes on the little area of exposed skin on her back, and she made pictures of the traces in her mind, listening to his slow breathing while trying to match her heartbeat with his.

When Ron dozed off, Hermione spent her time trying to follow him but she could not seem to get dazed enough to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep and rest for the next two hours. She tried different sleep methods that her mother had taught her when she was younger but still no avail. She was brought out of her thoughts when she felt a purring sensation vibrating against her back and her pillow sagged behind her head. She sat up a little, Ron's arm sliding down to her arm, and glanced to her side to see Crookshanks stretching, flexing his claws.

"You're such a pillow thief," she said playfully as she ran her nails over his back, making him arch in appreciation. "You have your own bed for a reason, you know."

Crookshanks lets out a quick meow before leaping onto her lap and looked up at her with his head tilted to one side, a look in his yellow eyes that spoke _"I would like my food now"_ indirectly. With his paw, he bumped her arm.

"Where are your manners?" Hermione asked smugly.

Crookshanks glowered at her and released a low, rumbling growl.

"Alright, alright, don't get shirty with me," Hermione rolled her eyes. She pulled Ron's arm off her and rolled out of the covers, resulting in Crookshanks to hop onto the floor, watching her expectantly as she stretched. "Bossy," she commented, noticing his stare, and took her wand from under her pillow.

The floorboards were surprisingly cold as Hermione walked out in the corridors and started down the staircase, liking the cotton feel of the red carpet covering the steps caressing her cold soles. Crookshanks was many steps ahead of her, eagerly heading to the kitchen, sometimes glancing back at her impatiently. She can almost hear him say _"Hurry up!"_ demandingly and she just chuckled at his urgency.

The lights of the house would turn on as she passed by them then later dim down a moment later. She and Ron had decided to cast the Sensor Charm on the electricity for whenever anyone decided to have a midnight snack or if any of the kids had a nightmare and would go to their bedroom during the night for their comfort. The spell only wears of at six in the morning and come back up at seven at night. They did not want a rise of their electricity bill.

The house was not dark as the gray light of the rising morning was beginning to beam through the windows and Hermione can see where she was going. A whiny yawn broke out of her as she headed over to the kitchen, where she can see Crookshanks climb on the counter with his small brown clutched in his mouth. She swayed a bit in her step on her way to the top cabinets to take out a fresh can of salmon flavored Friskies and used to can-opener.

Crookshanks' tail whipped wildly as she approached him at the counter, and after she poured the food into the bowl, he began to devour his breakfast recklessly, some bits spilling onto the counter.

Hermione scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Yummy," she joked sarcastically.

Crookshanks looked up at her offensively.

"Pardon me," Hermione said. "Enjoy your breakfast."

Crookshanks' meow muffled through the batch of food he still had in his mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Crookshanks went back to continue swallowing his meal, clearly ignoring her comment, as bits and droplets of his food would slip out from his bowl.

 _Men_ , Hermione thought disdainfully, rolling her eyes. She went to the fridge to take out the carton of eggs, carton of milk, block of butter, a pack of bacon, and slices of cheese. She produced a bowl from the cabinets, a spoon and whisk from the drawer, and brought all the items to the counter a few feet away from Crookshanks.

As she started to prepare her breakfast, she felt a wave of nostalgia hit her whilst she thought back to the days when Rose was with them. She only ate scrambled eggs with toast because bacon would not settle well in her stomach. She preferred apple juice instead of orange and she would clear up the table before she went to the school Hugo is currently attending.

She remembered the times when Ron would volunteer to make breakfast for the family and she would read a new issue of Ginny's article in the Daily Prophet while the kids would have a debate over a subject. The majority of them would be of logic and fantasy of Peter Pan. Rose would go for logic on why he is not real and Hugo favored fantasy on how it is possible for him to be real. Hermione would look over her paper to see two red faces smothered with cheese, rumpled pajamas, and hazardous bed hairs, continuously bantering over their facts.

Her relationship with Rose was going downhill at the time but it did not change her attitude towards her brother and father. Their mornings together continued the same routine until Rose left for Hogwarts.

Hermione paused whisking the eggs for a moment as she thought about Rose. She had accepted long ago, around the age of nine, during one of her fights with Ron about Rose that the distance between them was her fault. She spent too much time at the Ministry, getting her career started, trying to make the changes possible for magical creatures to have equality along with the Death Trials commencing, that she had practically gotten married to her work instead of her family. Sometimes she would bring work home with her and she would spend the night finishing it.

Realization had hit her sometime after her ninth birthday; she had gotten home from the Ministry in the morning and Rose sitting in the living room with Hugo on her lap. She had told Hermione in the crudest way ever that Hugo had been waiting for Hermione to come home the whole night and she had to sing him a lullaby to sleep. Hermione could not forget the hard look in Rose's eyes and the harsh scowl on her face when she told her this, she could still feel it so much like a slap waking her up. Hermione had receiving dark looks of all kinds throughout the years but she never had gotten a look of disappointment and failure like the one Rose had given her.

From that moment on, Hermione knew she was an unsuccessful to her kids.

Later on, she had tried to come home as much as she could to see if she could go back in her kid's lives again. Hugo had easily accepted her with open arms, as he is always looking forward to hearing stories of her time with S.P.E.W. and reading together with her, but Rose was the opposite. She would acknowledge Hermione's presence in a room with a nod or a grunt before she would go looking for Ron in another. That was as far as conversation between them would go. Hermione would greet her and Rose would blatantly welcome her with reluctance.

Hermione felt her lip quiver. She did not want to believe that she lost her daughter because of her mistakes. She did not want that. She did not mean to be so pompous with her work. She never dreamed that she would be a horrid mother. Ever since she was a little girl, she wanted to be like her mother to her future kids – supportive, hopeful, and loving. But now she is living her future and she felt ridiculous to think it would turn out how she planned it to be. She should have known better like during the Horcrux hunt when Harry said; _"Hermione, when have any of our plans every actually worked? We plan – we get there – all hell breaks loose."_

Hermione sighed and hung her head low as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt something lingering down her cheeks then drip from the tip of her chin, and then she heard a gasp behind her.

"Mum?"

Hermione whirled around to the sound of Hugo's voice. He was standing by the entrance, still in his pajamas, hair a complete mess, droopy-eyed, and staring at her with tormented eyes.

"Hugo, honey, why are you up so early?" Hermione hiccupped.

Hugo frowned. "We're going to see the baby Hippogriff together, remember?"

"That isn't until hours later," Hermione pointed out with a weak chuckle.

"I couldn't help it – I'm excited."

Hermione smiled slightly. At least she can say she still has a chance with Hugo if he was still interested in her work.

"Can I have oatmeal?" Hugo asked kindly as he walked to the counter and climbed up on the stool. "Morning Crooks," he said to the orange feline, who barely lifted his head from his bowl as he continued to eat, and raked his nails over the purring animal.

"Mix these for me while I do your oatmeal," Hermione said, pushing the ingredients to her son before she went to the pantry to take out the half-full jar of oatmeal flakes and to the lower cabinet to bring out another pan.

Hugo was mixing the eggs and milk together when she came back to the counter to take the carton of milk; Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the view of him sticking his tongue out and his brows furrowed in concentration, taking the simple task too seriously. He looked so much like his father but he acts more like her every day, Hermione thought as she wistfully stared at him. Freckled face, long nose, and pale blue eyes but he had her smile and her ears. Miraculously he also inherited her quiet sleeping habits opposed to Ron's obnoxious snoring. Two halves in one. It was strange but refreshing.

With a smile, Hermione took the milk carton and went back to the pan where she had placed upon a burning stove.

"Hey mum?"

"Yes?" Hermione answered over her shoulder as she poured the milk in the pan and later the oatmeal flakes before she stirred.

"Why were you crying?" Hugo asked innocently.

Hermione stiffened. She hadn't realized that she was crying. She quickly rubbed her free hand across her cheeks, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying her.

"It's nothing," she said but her voice cracked. She kept her eyes on the whirlwind of flakes and dairy.

After a while, Hermione heard the loud screech of the stool scratch over the floor and then footsteps came to her side. She glanced down briefly to see Hugo place the bowl of mixed eggs, milk, and cheese on the countertop and then he was looking up at her expectantly.

"Thank you, love. Your oatmeal will be ready in a few minutes," she said appreciatively.

"Why are you crying, mum?"

"I'm not crying-"

"You were."

Hermione sighed, silently cursing at the fact that her persistent trait had been born into him.

Hugo reached for Hermione's free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She returned it with earnest. She did not take her eyes away from the concern blues staring back at her, her heart snapping like strings as she took in the small faith standing before her. What had she done to have this little boy in her life? What had she done to still have him after all her mistakes? He had forgiven her more than a few times and treated her normally like she had never been gone from home for so long. She was not sure if it was because he wanted her in his life still or if he was raised as such a forgiving person.

Breathing deeply, Hermione used her wand to charm the spoon to continue stirring the oatmeal before she kneeled in front of her son, who was now staring at her in hesitation but remain firm. Their hands never let go of the other.

"Alright, you got me – I was crying," she admitted, softly running her thumb across his tiny knuckles.

"Why?" he asked politely.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I miss your sister – I miss Rose a lot."

"Am I not enough?" Hugo frowned deeply, his shoulders sagging.

"No, no. Of course you're enough. More than you'll ever know. It's just - let me explain something to you, sweetheart," Hermione said. "Your sister and I – we're different from you and me. We hit a small…setback, mind you. My job and decisions – it affected her a lot. You were really young when it all happened but my job got between us and we're not the same as we used to be. We're not close like she is with your father-"

"Or like you and me?"

Hermione smiled a little. "Exactly. Like you and me."

"How come you two aren't close?" Hugo questioned.

"I made mistakes," Hermione answered. "I was being daft and brought my job first all the time. I wasn't there for Rose like I was supposed to. I haven't been like a mother to her and missed out a lot in her life. It's hard to get back into it – now more than ever since she's in Hogwarts. And it's actually all my fault why we're like this. I wasn't there when she needed her mother and I can't blame anybody else but myself for that."

Hugo stayed quiet, his eyes staring directly into hers. Hermione waited for him as he processed in her words, anxiously wondering what could possibly be going through his mind at the moment. She knew she spoke too much for someone in his age, knowing that he would not entirely understand what exactly is going on between her and Rose. He was just a kid after all. But she needed to say what she just said – she needed to hear herself say it. She needed to hear her own voice come to accept her errors.

"But you're here now," said Hugo after a moment of silence had passed, and Hermione blinked. "Isn't that what matters?"

Hermione lets out a watery chuckle. "If that's what you feel."

"Mum, if you made mistakes before should they matter if you're trying to do things right now?" Hugo questioned. "That's what I do when I do something wrong. Like that time Jamie and I had a row, remember? I apologized and now we're actually best mates."

Hermione nodded with a small smile. She felt a sense of comfort at how he was looking at the positivity of the situation.

"I know what you mean, Hugo," Hermione said.

"I'm sure Rose will forgive you if you apologize. You and dad always told me that saying sorry is enough if you really mean it," Hugo said. "If you mean it, Rose will forgive you and you'll be happy again."

Hermione smiled lovingly at him, staring at him with fond eyes. She let out a short breath through her nose and reached a hand out to his face, running her thumb across the curve of his cheek.

"How did you get to be like this?" she murmured. "Be all positive and lively?"

Hugo shrugged with a sheepish grin and Hermione chuckled, her eyes beginning to light up through her tears.

"Thank you – for forgiving me. You don't know how much that means to me."

Hugo's grin softens into a melancholic smile. "I just need my mum. Everyone does. And you're here now aren't you? I shouldn't be angry if you're trying to be someone I still need. You're my mummy and I love you. I'll always need you."

Hermione pulled him in her arms then, burying her face in his small head, as she embraced him tightly. She felt him wiggle his arms to be able to wrap them around her waist, his small hand rubbing her back tenderly. She can feel her body shudder erratically as she finally let the tears formed in her eyes to be free and rattling sobs broke out from her.

She never knew how much she had bottled up until she heard her own son let her know that she still had a chance to gain what she had lost many years ago. He was one of the many pieces of her heart that could harm her in any humanly way and his words, his honestly, gave her a pang of hope that it could be whole again one day, that she will be able to find the other half of her heart that she had foolishly misplaced.

"I love you," Hermione whispered into his hair, dotting many kisses across the scalp, as she held him. "I love you so – very – very – much!"

"I love you too, mum," Hugo mumbled into her shoulder, still rubbing her back. "But I really don't love having your snot on my shoulder – gross," he added half-heartedly.

Laughing, Hermione pulled back from him but still kept him in her arms, and gave him an apologetic smile. Hugo raised his hands up to cup her cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the moist skin to wipe away her tears. His kind actions just made her cry a bit more.

She knew that her son was growing up into an honorable and humble young man – she had no doubt that he will be widely respected for his graciousness and intelligence – and he will reach greater heights than her or Ron has. But seeing him act so mature and proper at such an early age of nine, basically acting like a teen of eighteen, had impressed her to no end. She can see he was not a little boy anymore. She knew he did not truly need her for so many things like before but he still wanted her in his life to see him grow up and to be there when he needed to look back her to need her help somewhere along the road in life.

Hermione smiled and ruffled his hair. Hugo scrunched his nose up and playfully swatted at her hand, but Hermione laughed and continued to mess with his hair.

"How about we finish our breakfast?" she insisted, rising up to her feet. "You want some mango juice, right?"

"Mango is overrated; grape juice is the stuff now!" Hugo replied enthusiastically.

Hermione laughed as he went to the refrigerator for his now favored juice but she felt embarrassed to not have known that his preference in drinks had changed. From what she could remember, he always loved to drink mango because it was smooth and had no pulp. Time did pass by her too quickly for her to catch up with the changes around her but she was more than willing to take every day of her life to learn what became new to her child.

After all, learning is something that she will forever love to do.

* * *

It had taken them a few minutes to finish breakfast and an extra three to get prepared to leave. Hermione had made a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon for Ron when he woke up a few minutes after she had gotten dressed. He did not have to work today and he was displeased to learn that she had to go into S.P.E.W headquarters on a weekend and that she was taking Hugo with her under his request. He told her he would spend the day with George and Ginny at the Burrow to visit Molly and that they could come by if they finish early at the health center.

"Mum will probably make truffles knowing Lily's there," said Ron as he pulled out a blue polo shirt and track shorts from the dresser. He was still clad in only a towel, his hair was limp with water, and his exposed skin was smooth, moist.

"Probably." Hermione nodded. She was sitting on their bed slipping on her denim jacket and ankle boots. Unlike her job in the Ministry, she did not have to dress so professionally in S.P.E.W. everything was completely casual unless there was a meeting with the RCMCD. She did not have to wear suffocating suits or have her hair in a ridiculous updo or painful high heels that would give her blisters at the end of the day. She can dress in a simple tank top and jeans. She can dress like she was Hermione.

Ron pulled off the towel to slip on the track shorts and the shirt over his head. He shook his head to air-dry his hair as he walked over to his wife at the bed.

"You really have to go?" he asked, combing back his slightly wet hair with his fingers. "Isn't there someone else who can do the work?"

"I won't be long," Hermione said. "I just need to check some last health reports, sign a few papers to confirm what type of condition she's in, sign more papers on custody, and then take her to where the Hippogriff habitat. Not to mention I need to identify the level of danger she is."

"How long does that take?"

"About twenty – thirty minutes, tops," Hermione answered. "Hugo may want to play with some of the other creatures we have there so maybe forty minutes."

Ron grunted as he reached under the bed for the shoes he had kicked under and sat on the bed next to Hermione while he slipped them on. Hermione can feel the negative vibes from him even though his face was impassive.

"Why don't' you come?" she suggested.

"No thanks," Ron said. "I still remember last time I went and ended up getting conked in the head with a chair. Bloody ghoul, that foul git."

Hermione grinned. "Nobody told you to bother him. He was just minding his own business until you starting making fun of the noises he made."

"I thought it would make him stop doing noises," Ron grumbled. "Not irritate him."

Hermione laughed at his comment, shaking her head. She made a move to rise from the bed but she was pulled back by Ron holding her wrist and she found herself on her back, staring up at Ron who was hovering over her, using one arm to keep his weight off of her.

"Ron," she sighed in exasperation but she was caught off short when he raised a hand to her face and tenderly brush a few strands of her hair from her face, his face in contrast to his touches. He was staring at her intently, studying her face. She watched him as his eyes gradually soften, his fingers lightly trailing down to her jawline.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask him what he was thinking when he brought his lips down to hers unexpectedly without warning. His warm breath filled her mouth, tickling her tongue and drying up the airways of her throat. His hand held her by the chin, his palm resting against the curve of her neck as he lowered himself closer to her, crushing their chest together. Hermione's hands had a mind of their own – sliding up his torso, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, and then caressing his neck as she kissed him back with the same vigor.

Ron moved his mouth in quick, gentle strokes. Hermione was glad that she was lying on her bed because she would have collapsed by the momentarily shock of his affections brought upon her. She tried to focus only on his kisses, but her mind always traveled back to what she was not feeling. Shivers - quick breaths – rush – adrenaline – she was not getting any of them like she used to whenever they kissed. She had come to the conclusion on the previous night that the lack of reaction of her nerves was from their distance, from the time they had wasted arguing, but she found it to be getting ridiculous if she was not feeling even the electricity in her skin.

Hermione gentle pulled her lips from his, gasping lightly. She was getting scared now; this was abnormal to her. She knew it would take a while to fill in the dullness of their marriage, she had expected that, but she had also anticipated the small sensation that came from just being near Ron, and right now, she was not feeling that either. She enjoyed the kiss, it was wonderful as it should be to her, but it was a plain act at the moment to her. She did not feel an ounce of what she held for Ron for years as if they had vanished in thin air.

" _MUM! C'MON!"_ Hugo's voice broke into the intense atmosphere. _"I WANNA SEE THE HIPPOGRIFF!"_

Ron looked over his shoulder with a laugh and Hermione took the moment to let out a relieved breath. She gently pushed him off of her, letting him drop on the bed beside her, and she rose up, straightening out the wrinkles in her clothes. Ron also stood from the bed, fixing the collar of his polo, which she realized she might have been pulling on during their kiss.

"You sure you can't just skip it today?" Ron asked.

"I can," Hermione said. "But I'd rather do it now than later. It won't take long, Ronald."

Ron sighed and nodded.

Hermione held his face in her hands, her palms cupping his cheeks, and stretched up on her toes to give him a quick kiss on his lips. She pulled back as soon as she felt his hand graze over her waist, and she gave him a vague smile, brush their noses together, before she stepped away and walked out of the room, knowing that Hugo was eagerly waiting for her downstairs.

"I'll owl you if anything!" she yelled over her shoulder as she made her way down the stairs.

"Bring me that rotten ghoul's head so I can use it as a quaffle!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. When she reached downstairs, she saw Hugo standing by the door, jumping from one foot to the other patiently, and properly dressed in his long-sleeve gray shirt, slightly baggy pants, and converse. His eyes lit up at the sight of her walking towards him and immediately held her hand once she was close.

"Hold on tight," she told him whilst she tightened her grasp on his hand.

Hugo complied before they disapparated.

* * *

The S.P.E.W. headquarters had grown throughout the years since Hermione founded it. She remembered how her small organization was a simple gathering between her, Ron, Harry, Neville, and Dobby in the common room of the Gryffindor Tower to come up ways in helping house-elves gain proper treatment as equal as wizards and witches. Hardly no one wanted to be part of it because they did not want to pay the fee to join. After the war and graduating from Hogwarts, Hermione relived the organization with a several supporters (she dropped the fee) only she changed the purpose to giving equality to all magical creatures and homes with their own species, changing the slogan to Society of Protection and Equality Worldwide.

Her old headquarters in her old apartment in Greenwich, South-East London had been updated into its corporation building in Central London after she had agreed to work in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Kingsley had made the plans of having the building built where they could shelter the many magical creatures they saved to pamper until they are brought to their habitat. To the Muggles, it is seen as an old abandoned department store like the entrance to St. Mungo's. It is remained as a secret location for protection in case any wizards or witches chose to harm any of the supporters of the organization and employers of the Ministry, aside from Kingsley and Harry, did not know where to pinpoint it exactly in Central London. They only knew that Hermione was the founder but they did no move on her.

Entering through the entrance of the headquarters was quite different. Instead of needing to go inside the department store, one could simply walk in through the wall of the alleyway behind a dumpster. It was unsanitary for Hermione but convenient. Muggles could not come through the entryway unless in contact with a wizard; Hermione had it modified for whenever her parents would love to visit. Hugo did not enjoy the smell of the garbage, stating that he expected a fancier or outstanding way of coming to the building but he was soon cut off as they had entered the main lobby of the magical building.

Hermione stood by the entrance with a smirk as she watched Hugo glance around him in awe, gasping in amazement at the various stations holding different creatures, and shouting in excitement whenever he saw a species he recognized though told stories. Hermione never liked bringing Hugo or Rose to S.P.E.W at a young age in fear they would be in harm's way during production but the little times when she would have them with her, she always marveled in their reactions to the newer transitions. Hugo favored seeing the infant section because he got to study the baby dragons like his Uncle Charlie does and Rose, before, loved going behind the scenes where she got to see how the Mediwizards are able to take care of the creatures.

The lobby of the headquarters was a completely polar opposite than the exterior. It was very bright and completely white. The narrow hall was surrounded with tall glass windows for walls, where one can see rooms of different sections; inspecting, grooming, bathing, and making of medicine potions. At the very end of the hall, stood a reception desk with hovering towers of envelopes and a whole wall full of mail slots. The lady sitting at the desk was elderly with blond hair beginning to turn gray and a puffy flowery dress.

Hugo groaned at the sight of the lady as he and Hermione made their way towards her. Hermione heard him and placed a hand on his back, urging him forward along with her.

"Be nice," she hissed.

"But I don't like her," Hugo said in a low voice. "She always pinches my cheeks. And she wears too much lipstick."

Hermione shook her head but she was smiling. Hugo was never fond of the receptionist, Gwen Long, ever since his first visit to headquarters. She had gotten smitten with the stories Hermione had told her about Hugo and how charming he had grown out to be, but throughout all physical features, she had gotten latched onto his cheeks. They were puffy enough to pinch and tempting to kiss on which Hugo despised about himself due to Gwen's habit. Though it was slightly sad on Hugo's behalf, it did not keep Hermione laughing at his grouchiness.

They reached the desk then and Gwen looked at the sound of their feet; she immediately smiled at the sight of them.

"Hermione!" she said with such elation as she stood and wobbled around to the brunette. "How you been child? It's been so long since I've seen you!"

Hermione grinned sheepishly as she let Gwen engulf her in a warm welcoming embrace, taking in the scent of lilac and lemons, and returned the gesture for a moment before pulling away.

"I've been good, Gwen," she said. "You're looking lovely as ever."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that." Gwen turned to Hugo who shrunk back to hide behind Hermione. "This charming young lad here can't be baby Hugo now can't he?"

Hermione grinned slyly as she stepped aside, letting Hugo come to full view to the eyes of the elder woman, and pretended to not notice the hard glare that Hugo was giving her but she was biting her tongue to prevent herself from laughing. She should not find seeing her son in such torment to be amusing but she cannot help herself from teasing him once in a while.

"Yes he is," Hermione told Gwen and raised a playful brow at her son. "Say 'hi', honey."

"Hi, Ms. Long," Hugo grumbled unpleasantly.

Gwen did not waist time to capture the disgruntled ginger in her arms and peppering his cheeks with sloppy kisses, leaving behind red smudges of her heavy lipsticks. Hermione stifled a giggle as she watched the scene unfold. Hugo's face was painted red by the lipstick and the shade of his blush as Gwen began to pinch his cheeks, squealing in pure joy.

"My, my, you have grown! You're practically a man!" Gwen said. "Oh, you'll be breaking so many hearts with your charms!"

"He sure will," Hermione agreed.

Gwen finally released Hugo, who grumbled under his breath as he roughly rubbed the sleeve of his shirt over the lipstick stains on his cheeks, glaring up at Hermione though his eyelashes but she just shrugged and smirked.

"What can I do for you?" Gwen asked kindly.

"I'm here to meet up with Fabian again," Hermione answered.

"Ah yes, of course," Gwen nodded. She went back to her desk for her wand and pointed it to the center of the wall of mail slots. " _Aperi_ _intrare_."

The wall wriggled at the very center as it pulled apart, shaking violently the more they grew apart, and a second later they were all facing an entrance to a tiled hallway full of sounds of endless chatter.

"Cheers," said Hermione. She took Hugo by the hand and quickly lead him forward through the archway, waving at Gwen over her shoulder. She can hear the wall move once again and close behind her.

"Wow," Hugo gasped, his eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets.

Hermione chuckled at his amazement, amused to see that he can still be easily surprised at the sight even though he had visited several times before, and then she glanced around the place.

The S.P.E.W. atrium was open and lively. The floor was transparent; aquatic creatures can be seen swimming beneath, carelessly and happily, every now and then capturing their prey. Various magical beings can be seen dashing across the floor, their robes fluttering behind their steps. Paper airplanes zoomed through the air and into the mail slots behind them, some employers going to retrieve their letters, and other shoving a new one in their slot. Fairies would soar at the ceiling, communicating through their casual high-pitch buzzing while they braided their hairs and others occasionally checking their birthed cocoons of life under the rifts. There were rows of fireplaces where a wizard can be seen entering through apparation or through Floo network. Through the windows of each floor one can see a magical creature giving birth, brought back into good health, being stitched up, being hatched, and being nurtured well.

At the very center of the atrium is a statue made out of gold standing tall in a fountain. It is shaped as an elf holding up a globe where inside can be seen multi-colors swirling. Around the elf were other creatures known to man. By the bottom of the fountain, unicorns are seen sipping on the crystal fountain water, centaurs are standing by speaking to their significant other, and mermaid are lounging around. It was Kingsley's idea to make the elf as the main attraction as it was the original cause of S.P.E.W. but later on he added the other creatures as soon as the equality for magical creatures had expanded. Hermione had agreed with him thoroughly, seeing that it made the other creatures feel homey.

"That's new," Hugo said, pointing at the grates where he can see a wizard appear from within green flames holding a bundle of blanket in his arms.

"It was added last year," Hermione answered. "It's connected to the Floo network and it is also an apparation zone – easier to travel to one place or to a floor. Certainly better than lifts."

"How is that possible?" Hugo asked. "Won't it mess up or something?"

"They don't get to choose which grate to come from," Hermione explained. "Each grate are activated to retrieve any upcoming person when requested periodically. It's complicated. It's been designed to not have any accidents through either types of traveling. That's why there's so many."

"Hang on," Hugo knitted his eyebrows together. "How come we didn't go through there if it's for Floo and apparation?"

"Oh," Hermione grinned deviously. "I thought you'd like to see Gwen after so long. I figured you missed her and her lipstick and cheek-pinching fingers."

Hugo gaped at her. "Mum!"

Hermione laughed heartily. She pulled him with her by the hand as she stride forward.

"Not funny!" Hugo cried in exasperation.

"How come I'm laughing?"

"Because you weren't the victim of an abominable torture of getting your cheeks pinched and being smothered with wet kisses. That's really scandalous of you, honestly!"

Hermione blinked. "That's quite a vocabulary you got there. Been brushing up on the thesaurus lately?"

"How else am I going to get high marks on my essays?" Hugo shrugged. "My English teacher can be so aggravating – very bothersome! – I can't wait to get to Hogwarts so I won't have to write five pages anymore."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so hopeful on that," Hermione pointed out. "The professors there would get you to write essays twelve – sometimes fifteen inches long – don't forget you'll be writing with just a quill and no technology can be used on the school grounds so you won't get to type on a computer. I remember in my first year, Professor Flitwick had us write a thirteen-inch essay on the Levitation Charm as the first homework. I didn't mind – I went beyond it, but your father and Uncle Harry? Poor lads, that's all I can say."

Hugo became pale then muttered, "Maybe I'll stay in Muggle schools instead."

Hermione laughed and brought him closer to her to wrap an arm around his shoulders. They reached one of the fireplaces and stepped inside together; Hermione took the powder from grate and Hugo tightly clutched onto the sleeve of her jacket. He never liked the sinking feeling in his gut through Floo powder but he enjoyed the sensation of flowing through the air effortlessly like a soaring bird.

"Inspection room!" she shouted before she threw the powder down and then they were engulfed within the sparked flames.

Hermione kept her eyes closed, not wanting to be blinded by the whirling green flames, and made sure that hers and Hugo's elbows were tucked in tightly so they would not bump into the other fireplaces they flowed passed by. Hugo kept his eyes closed but Hermione kept her eyes open as they passed by one grate to another, seeing glimpses of rooms through the spins of green, faces skipping by, until she spotted a picture of a specific creature on an examination table and then she let pushed them forward.

"F-finally!" Hugo coughed, having swallowed too much ash. "I don't feel so good."

Hermione, feeling guilty for making him go through a despised trip, took him to the far end of the room and sat him down on a chair next to a table of vials full of medicine potions. She kneeled in front of him, gently rubbing his shoulders, staring at him worriedly, as he breathed deeply through wheezes and coughs.

"Try putting your head between your legs," Hermione mentioned. "It worked the first time I did Floo."

Hugo nodded and complied.

"Poor tyke," Fabian's voice said grimly. "Not much of a Floo traveler, is he?"

Hermione shook her head. "I got him used to apparation – silly me for that."

A few clatters and clanking were heard from the east side of the room; Fabian approached the two with a glass of cool water with ice and held it to Hermione. She accepted it, thanked him, and handed it to Hugo.

"Take your time, okay," she told him.

Hugo nodded and continued to drink his water greedily.

Hermione rose to her feet and turned to Fabian. "How is she?"

"She's doing well," Fabian said. "Been hyperactive lately. I think she's getting tired of being locked up though."

They went over to the examination table where the infant was seen resting peacefully. Her head twitched on instinct then she lifted her eyes up to Hermione and Fabian, eyeing them curiously, and her feathers flared defensively.

Hermione took one step forward and bowed respectful, peering up at her through her lashes. She can see Agnes scrutinize her for a moment, her yellow eyes large and piercing amber, and for a moment Hermione thought she was not about to accept her, which would surprise her considering Agnes had always been excited to see her around during her visits, but then Hermione relaxed as she sees Agnes lower her head in a bow.

Hermione straightened herself and approached Agnes. She caressed her feather, the young Hippogriff leaning into her touch appreciatively, almost purring like Crookshanks would, and closing her eyes to lose herself in Hermione's hand. Its luscious horse tail whipped excitedly, which Hermione chuckled at.

"How is her eyesight?" she asked Fabian, never taking her eyes off of Agnes.

"Balanced. Took her out two days ago for a flight and she was able to spot a rabbit in two miles."

"So her wings are stable enough as well? Last time she went for a flight she was staggering a bit and her landing was off."

"It improved – her bones are stronger."

Hermione went to stoke on top of Agnes' head, smoothing back the sensitive feathers. Agnes squeaked in delight.

"And her diet?" she asked. "Has she eaten anything aside from mice?"

"Yes, her appetite got bigger from last time," Fabian answered. "Yesterday she hunted down a few ferrets, a couple of squirrels, and a few more rabbits. Earlier today she ate twice the amount. She gained twenty pounds – finally out of the underweight rate."

"That's good!" Hermione said happily, moving her hand down to caress under Agnes' beak. "Eímai perífanos gia séna, korísi!" she told the young creature.

Agnes squawked with equal enthusiasm, lifting her head up to give Hermione better access.

Fabian chuckled, "Have you read the last reports I've given you?"

"Yes," Hermione frowned. "Still haven't found the mother yet, I see."

"We're still searching. It's weird – Hippogriff mothers don't usually leave their young like that," Fabian said. "I'm starting to fear for the worst."

Hermione sighed. For the past few days since they found Agnes, they have been searching through every small angle and unlikely places in the world to find her mother because they wanted to bring Agnes home to her own race. However, Agnes' mother had gotten surprisingly difficult to be spotted. Not even the other wizards and witches in lived in the same area where Agnes was hatched had spotted the unknown parent nor have known that a Hippogriff was in their area until they heard about the row Hermione and Fabian had with the man they encountered, Luke Thomas. They continued searching but the worst case scenario was beginning to seem more realistic as time passed.

"If a Muggle hunted the mother we would have heard it from the newspapers a long time ago and if a wizard took her then we would found them by now," Hermione retorted. "We'll find her but right now I'm more concern about Agnes. We can't keep her in here forever – she needs to be in a more social environment. Keeping her away from all interactions up to adulthood will make her ferocious."

"And it's lethal to have her live with the other Hippogriffs," Fabian added. "Babies feel much more threatened unless they're with a parent. It would end up a bloodbath if she harms another out of fear. Hurt one, hurt all."

"That's not going to happen," Hermione said. "In the meantime, we'll keep searching for the mother. In fact, last night I actually thought of a good place to keep her until we-"

"Mum? I'm better now."

Hermione turned to see Hugo approaching her with the empty glass in hand and her eyes widen in fear.

"Wait, Hugo, don't-"

She was too late to finish; Agnes had already saw Hugo walking their way without a halt and quickly broke out in hysterics. She stood on her back legs, flapping her wings wildly for balance, and swiping her talons recklessly towards Hugo's direction while it squawked erratically. Hugo screamed as he fell on his backside, having lost his footing during a step, and cradled his head in his arms in terror.

"Agnes, no!" Hermione yelled. She immediately lunged forward to hold Hugo in her arms and shield him from Agnes' upcoming claws. They hooked over the back of her right shoulder, making her shriek in agonizing pain, as pieces of her skin were torn off like cloth, and she can feel the tips of the talons nearly reaching her bone.

"Agnes! Káto!" Fabian shouted as he grabbed the frightened Hippogriff by the neck and pulled her off of Hermione, yanking her talons from her shoulder. "Ftérna!"

"Mum!" Hugo cried as Hermione released him. His eyes widen in horror as red began to seep through her jacket and a few streaks streamed down on her collarbone. "Mum, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I-I was-"

"It's fine, Hugo, it's fine," said Hermione, wincing. She placed a hand over her shoulder to apply pressure on the wound, but blood continued to spill out on her jacket, and she was beginning to feel some leak down on her back. She used her other hand to run her fingers through Hugo's hair, ignoring the sheering pain throbbing from her movements, and asked, "Are you alright? You didn't get hurt in any way, did you? Tell me you're okay."

Hugo took Hermione's hand away from his hair and nodded. "I'm fine, mum. But you're bleeding!"

"I'll be okay," she lied; she was feeling a bit drowsy by the massive blood loss she was losing in seconds. The wound was deeper than it felt.

"Agnes! Irémise!" Fabian's voice caught Hermione attention. She turned to see him struggling to keep the infant down on the examination table, barely missing her swinging talons and kicking hooves, but still managing to keep a firm grip on her neck with his arms.

Hermione, though barely have strength in her arm now, sprung up and went to the table where Hugo had previously sat at. She quickly took one of the vials off the shelves and brought out a syringe then filled it up with the transparent potion before she went to the mixed creature screaming bloody murder.

"Chalaróste , korítsi . Ola einai mia chara," Hermione tried to calm down the Hippogriff but the infant continued to thrash and lash at her and Fabian. "Lypámai."

Hermione stuck the needle under one of Agnes' wings and pumped the liquid into her. Hermione watched Agnes as her posture changed under the influence of the potion – nodding head, wings tucking in, talons curled into loose fists, and droopy eyes. Eventually, Agnes was in a deep unconscious sleep.

"Bloody hell," Fabian sighed in relief.

Together, Hermione and Fabian laid down Agnes on the table in a comfortable position that would not wound her wings. Hermione gently stroke Agnes' head, taking in the restful face on her face, and lets out a resentful sigh.

"Are you okay?" Fabian asked.

"I'll be fine," Hermione said, although she felt dazed. She chose to sit on a chair nearby and clamped a hand over her shoulder, cringing. "There's some Blood-Replenishing Potion and Dittany in the cupboards over there."

"Alright."

Fabian immediately went to search for the potions in the pointed cabinets. Hugo walked to stand by his mother, his eyes roaming over the patch of blood stained on his mother's jacket, and his lips trembled as his eyes began to form up tears. Hermione noticed them and shook her head.

"Don't you cry," she said firmly. "It'll get healed in a second."

"But – but – I'm sorry, mum!" Hugo wailed, his tears falling over his anguish, freckled face and sniffled, "It's my fault!"

"Hey, hey, come here." Hermione held out her arm and Hugo rapidly came forward to wrap his arms around her waist while he buried his face on her good shoulder while he let out hiccupped cries. She stroke down from his hair, massaging the scalp with her nails, to his shaking back and pressing a few comforting kisses on his wet cheek.

"I'm – so – sorry – mum!"

"Shh, it's okay," Hermione hushed him quietly. "It's not your fault – really. I should have told you how to approach a Hippogriff before we came here."

Hugo's shameful weeps subsided slightly; Hermione can still feel his tears damping on her shoulder and his shuddering frame lightened up a little as she continue to rub him comfortingly in a soothing manner. The pain in her damaged shoulder had not faded, it felt worse. She pulled away from Hugo for a moment to slip the jacket off her shoulders and instantly felt relieved at the lessened pressure from her wound, ignoring the stinging sensation of the cold air coming in contact to the open red skin.

Fabian came back with two vials and a new syringe filled with a clear blue liquid inside.

Hugo stared at him warily. "What is that?" he asked as the dark haired wizard tapped on the syringe to blow away the bubbles.

"Anesthesia," Fabian answered.

Hugo blinked in confusion and glanced over at his mother. Hermione caught his eyes and chuckled.

"It's what the doctors use to numb an area," she explained.

"Oh," Hugo muttered.

Fabian walked around to stand behind Hermione and held her steady by her other shoulder, the needle of the syringe already in position for penetration.

"Now this may hurt a bit," he warned her before he pierced the needle into the wound, making Hermione flinch and let out a distressed hiss. He started to pump the substance into the wound, and Hermione was beginning to not feel anymore burning twinge as the medicine started to take its effect.

 _Ironic how it's supposed to numb the pain but one has to feel pain to not feel it_ , Hermione thought sarcastically.

"Why did Agnes attack me?" Hugo asked hesitantly, watching Fabian as he pulled the needle out and then reached for the Dittany. "Doesn't she like me?"

"Hippogriffs are proud creatures and get easily offended," Hermione replied. "If you don't show them any signs of respect, they instantly see you as a threat. When you approach them you have to bow – always keep eye contact with them – and wait for them to make the first move. If they do then you have permission to walk up to them."

"Why are they so proud for?" Hugo asked.

"Because they have a big bloody ego," Fabian muttered under his breath.

Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile while Hugo laughed, sniffling a bit as he wiped away the remaining droplets of tears from his face. Hermione could feel herself relax to see him brighten up from his recent solemn mood and the small smile made her heart flutter in joy. She did not want to have him going through the hours of the day in guilt and regret over her motherly instincts acting on impulse to keep him safe from him. She knew no words she say would make him feel less responsible for her accident even though she never blamed him for the cause and she was glad that Fabian's comment was able to cheer him up a bit.

"What was that language you were speaking in?" Hugo inquired curiously.

"It's Greek," Hermione answered. "Hippogriffs are related to Griffins which are originated in Greece. The first language that Hippogriffs know is Greek but later on their knowledge will increase and they will pick up other languages."

Hugo blinked in amazement. "Wicked! How'd you learn to speak Greek?"

"My job requires me to travel from time to time so I picked up on it." Hermione smiled. "Plus it doesn't hurt that your great-grandmother was an expert on Greek mythology. I'll teach it to you someday."

"What about you? How do you know Greek?" Hugo turned to Fabian, who he sees to add drops of the potion on his mother's wound, making her wince slightly. He watched in amazement as greenish smoke consumed Hermione's wound, seeing the effects close up the opened muscles and clear up the blood, before it faded entirely. The wound was now patched up new skin, making it seem to have been healed for several days.

"I'm half-Greek on my father's side," Fabian answered as he placed the Dittany aside and then popped open the vial of the Blood-Replenishing Potion before he handed it to Hermione, saying, "Five sips are probably enough for the amount you lost."

Hermione nodded before she began to drink the potion, grimacing at the taste. Fabian returned to Agnes on the table and gently caressed her feather while inspecting her for any signs of harm.

"What are we going to do with her?" he asked. "I should just send her back to her room, right? So she can calm down?"

Hermione pulled the vial from her mouth. "The medicine doesn't wear off for an hour right?"

"Yeah."

"Like I said before, I've been thinking last night where she can reside while we look for her mum," Hermione said. "I have a friend at Hogwarts who took care of a Hippogriff before – he still does, I assume. I could take Agnes there and he'll keep her safe and sound."

"Who?"

"Hagrid – he's a half-giant I met in my first year. He's the most trusted one I know who will take care of Agnes."

"Are you sure about this, Hermione? She hasn't had social interactions since she's been hatched and, as you can see, he just attacked your son. The only people she's known are you and me. How do you think she will react to a half-giant being the first thing she sees when she wakes up?"

"I'll be there," Hermione responded simply. She groaned lightly as she stood from the chair. The wound was healed and gone but the faint throbbing sensation was still a bit biting to her nerves. "I'll send the Headmistress an owl letting her know," she said.

Fabian sighed, definitely doubtful of her decision.

"Everything will be fine," Hermione reassured him. "I trust Hagrid."

"Okay," Fabian said before he went to continue inspecting the infant creature.

Hermione turned to Hugo, who was glancing around the room interestingly, his hands in his pockets, his feet shuffling, and his lips pressed together. She smiled; she was contented to see that he was no longer crying over her being hurt or blaming himself for the sudden issue. His eyes were still bloodshot from his tears, his nose was pink from being stuffy, and small specks of red were on his freckled cheeks but Hermione assumed that was from Gwen pinching them.

"Honey," she said, getting his attention. "You want to come with me to Hogwarts and see your sister and cousin or do you want to go to the Burrow with your father?"

"H-Hogwarts?" Hugo gawked at her. "I want to go! I wanna go and see Hogwarts!"

"Alright," Hermione laughed. She reached her jacket she left hanging on the back of the chair and slipped her arms through the sleeves.

"Are you going to be okay, mum?" Hugo asked tentatively.

"I will be," Hermione said as she affectionately brushed back his hair from his eyes, scratching his head. "Now how about you write to your father? I need to write to the headmistress."

Hugo nodded enthusiastically before he went to Fabian to ask to help him write a letter.

Hermione grinned at his eagerness, watching him badgering her co-worker for a quill and parchment. She knew he was mostly keen to see Rose again rather than seeing the school he will be attending in two years because he missed his eldest sibling out of all, along with his two cousins. Her smile faltered a little as she thought of Rose: she was going to be seeing and hearing from her daughter again for the first time in nearly a month.

The last time she saw Rose was when she dropped her off at Platform 9/3 with Ron and they had left it in good terms but Hermione always questioned whether if it is because she did not want to make a scene or if perhaps Ron had spoken to her before they left the house. She hadn't heard from Rose unless it was being told by Ron from the letters he would get from her. She had learned that she was sorted into Slytherin with Draco Malfoy's son, Scorpius, she was the top student of her classes as expected, and she was mostly friends with the students from Hufflepuff instead of her roommates. Aside from that, Hermione did not know much about Rose's school year because she never writes to her.

Hermione sighed. Even if she did see her daughter during her visit at Hogwarts it did not mean Rose would stay and talk to her. She would be ecstatic to see Hugo once again but that would be it. She never got used to getting the cold shoulder from Rose and the hurt becomes greater with every lack of response she would get from the young witch, but she did not blame her. Yet she just wished she would at least say a simple "hello" or call her "mum" again but she would not go beyond a grunt and Hermione knew that. But it still crushed her.

Hermione curled her lips downward in despair and shook her head. She would have to work twice as hard with Rose to be able to be close to her like she is with Hugo. She went over to Hugo, who finally got the essentials he needed and he was writing a letter to Ron, and she went to use the extra set to write the letter to Headmistress McGonagall.

* * *

After sending the letters to Ron and McGonagall, Hermione immediately apparated Hugo and Agnes with her to Hogsmeade. The trip to Hogwarts had been immediately delayed by Hugo once they entered the main center of the small village of stores and sales; his sweet tooth had been brought to life when they passed by Honeyduke's and he had spotted sales of chocolate wands on the display window but even Hermione could resist the chewy chocolate eggs. She had made Hugo vow to not tell his father about their detour, knowing that he would take it as an opportunity to tease her about defining her parent's as being the dentist's daughter.

McGonagall had told Hermione that she had sent a carriage at the Hogsmeade station to pick her up and when Hermione got there with Hugo, she was reverted back to her school years. The Hogwarts carriages was the same as she remembered it to be - black, headlamps attached to the front, and the hoods were on for the cold weather. But what left her speechless was what tied to the railing at the front; a large boney figure with a face similar to a dragon's, emotionless eyes that glittered without pupils. The defined outlines of its bones seemed glossy and slimey enough to be assumed slippery. Its bat-like wings were tucked in but can still be seemed bigger than its body and black like a leather jacket.

It was a Thestral.

Hermione had not seen a Threstral ever since the war yet the shock and amazement of seeing it was brought back to her. Its appearance was frightening and a bit sickening to the stomach but its nature makes up for its misunderstood reputation as bad omens. The wave of guilt crashed over her as she thought back at the time she did not believe Harry when he pointed them out in their fifth year; she probably made him think he was crazy for her declining him. She wish she could go back to change that now that she knew what it was like to see one in the open and it was an awful feeling. Seeing something that can be shown if death was witnessed and accepted was a discomforting sensation, especially when she had to remember the many deaths she had to see.

Hermione wanted to pet the Thestral but she did not want to scare Hugo by having him see her touching "air" and she did not want to explain to him about the magnificent creature yet. He was far too young to know about Thestrals yet and she did not want him to get nightmares of the creatures as she knew he can get them easily. She only gave the Thestral a nod of acknowledgement, earning a sputtering whine from it in return, before she joined a hyperactive Hugo inside the carriage and then they were off on the road leading to Hogwarts.

Along the way to the school, they went through the Forbidden Forest as Hermione remembered. It amazes her as many years had passed and she still felt like she still step foot on the familiar grounds daily. Once in a while several inhabitants can be seen frolicking through the trees in rhythm of their steps or miniature ones leaping from one branch to another, much to Hugo's joy, and Hermione would identify the creatures spotted in the gray shadows; blast-ended skrewts, bowtruckles, herds of unicorns, and some centaurs. Every time Hugo sees a new creature he would gasp in disbelief and laugh in awe while watching them. Hermione would have sworn she saw her son resemble as a little puppy leaning against the window with a wagging tail as he waited the owner to come home.

They reached the main entrance gates to Hogwarts in a short time and the sight of the castle was as magical as her first time seeing it. Its restoration from the war was not noticeable – there were no signs of fallen debris, busted windows, crumbled walls, shattered stairs, broken statues, or cracked roofs. Blood stains of the fallen were cleansed, parted wands have been collected, and evidence of burned bodies has been removed. It stood high and proud, its reflection being casted over the rippling waters of the Great Lake. The slopping lawns were trimmed neatly and greener than spring. Greenhouses on the exterior grounds of the school were built twice more wide than they originally were and seemed fuller of plants. From the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hermione saw Hagrid's hut, the same small house she had visited it many times for six years of her life, back to its old humble stand, free from fire burns and chapped wood.

The only thing that has changed, Hermione noticed as the main gates opened automatically and the Thestral pulled the carriage through, was that the concrete pillars of the gates were carved as horses instead of two winged boars. Hugo was jumping in his chair with his nose pressed against the glass as he glanced around the grounds excitedly, the grin never falling from his face. There were students wandering around doing social activities when they seem to have noticed their questionable carriage or Hermione assumed, with absolute amusement, it was perhaps because Hugo's face was the only thing that can be seen inside the cart.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" she asked him.

"Magnificent? This place is fantastic!" Hugo praised, his voice high. "This is where Rosie is studying? This is where I'm going to study?"

"Yes – in two years." Hermione nodded.

"That's too long," Hugo whined. "I can't wait knowing this place is so – so –"

"Magical?" Hermione smirked.

"Yes!"

Hermione laughed as she adjusted Agnes in her arms, feeling the small creature shift a little, and gently cradled her head close to her chest while she caressed her feathers. She pulled the blanket closer around Agnes to keep her from being cold.

"Think of it this way – the wait will be worth it," she told her son, who went back to pressing his face against the glass comically.

"You can say that again! Blimey, I envy Rosie now!"

Hermione laughed again.

The carriage came to a halt then and Hugo was already pushed his way out, almost tripping over the small steps.

"Hugo!" Hermione called as she followed after him more carefully, not wanting to drop Agnes, and shut the door behind her. She can see him practically skipping up the stairs to the large oak doors. "Hugo, wait up!"

"C'mon mum!" Hugo shouted. "You're too slow!"

Hermione rolled her eyes but preceded forward either way. She will not deny that she was feeling bubbles of giddiness for being able to walk along the grounds where most of her childhood resided in but she knew she had to maintain a level of professionalism during her visit as much as she wanted to be able to jump and run like her son in a Christmas morning. Pairs of curious eyes met with hers wherever she looked and some whispers of her name could be heard from those standing close by as she reached Hugo at the top of the stairs.

The door, however, was already creaking open before Hermione could grasp on the knob and once wide, seen standing behind wearing her Headmistress robes, was Minerva McGonagall. Her age was showing more after years of overloaded stress. Her dark hair had a few silver lines, a few wrinkles noted on the corners of her eyes through her spectacles, and her lips were withered. She still has the stern face that would make many scared to cross with her, but it soon relaxed once she saw Hermione, and an approachable yet rare smile stretched on her withered face.

"Miss Granger," she greeted. "Or better yet known as Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione could not stop the wide smile from breaking out on her face or herself from lunging forward to wrap an arm around the elder witch's shoulders not too tightly to not crush Agnes. This woman is one of the reasons why she is alive; she taught Hermione everything she knows from Transfiguration to loyalty and strength. She had taken care of her and the Gryffindor house with equal love, mostly to her, Ron, and Harry despite the troubles that seem to be attracted to them. She never left them because she loved them as her own, as if they were her children, and she kept her personal promise to have them grow up to this day.

"Hello Professor McGonagall," Hermione said into her ear. "Or should I say Headmistress McGonagall?"

Hermione lets go of the older witch to readjust her hold around Agnes and McGonagall turned to Hugo, who was staring up at her innocently, hopping to one foot then another, with his arms behind his back while smiling up to her politely.

"You look so much like him," McGonagall said in disbelief. "I feel like I'm staring at a replica."

"He's like Ron in many ways you can imagine," Hermione retorted lightly, instinctively patting down Hugo's hair with her free hand. "He's so eager to attend here already. More than ever now that he's seen it."

Hugo nodded vigorously. "I really am! Is it true that I have to wrestle a troll to get sorted in a house I want? James said he did that at the Sorting!"

Hermione sighed deeply while McGonagall chuckled heartily. She had gotten much more relaxed ever since the war ended, being able to blend in with a children better now that the pressure of deaths and protection for the innocence is done, and she can spend her life living without the jumpiness or to be constant vigilant for every corner.

"I'm going to have a serious talk to George about influencing my godson," Hermione hissed through gritted teeth, shaking her head.

McGonagall smirked. "No – you don't have to wrestle a troll."

Hugo frowned in disappointment. Hermione and McGonagall laughed.

"So is this the Hippogriff you spoke about?" McGonagall asked, referring to the purple bundle that was letting out raspy snores.

"Yeah, her name is Agnes," Hermione answered. "Poor little bird is temporarily an orphan. We're looking for her mother right now but we can't seem to find her anywhere. I was hoping Hagrid could take care of her until then. I can't have her locked up for so long – she needs to be able to fly when she wants, hunt, and other things her kind does. She is only an infant."

"Hmm," McGonagall mused. "Well Hagrid should be teaching a class of third and sixth years right about now."

"Has it started recently?"

"No, it's almost lunchtime. Perhaps you can stay until then?"

Hermione hesitated. "I hope it ends soon. The medicine I have Agnes in is limited – only an hour. I want to be able to have her in a calmer environment when she wakes up."

"Yeah, because she's dangerous!" Hugo added solemnly, a look of guilt carved on his face. "She attacked me but mum saved me and got hurt for me."

McGonagall's eyes widen in shock. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine – one of my employers put some dittany on it," Hermione turned to her son. "And Hugo – I told you it was my fault to begin with. Don't blame yourself."

"Are you sure it's safe to bring her here? You forgot to mention this incident of yours in the post," McGonagall said. "I can't have an uncontrolled creature running amuck in the castle full of students and maiming them."

"I trust Hagrid," Hermione replied. "I trust that if Agnes stayed with him, she will have everything she needs – freedom – nature – and a sense of independence. If I keep her locked up to adulthood then she will be a danger to everyone. She needs to be more outside."

"How long have you had her locked up?"

"Not long – a couple of days."

McGonagall seemed unconvinced, her lips pressed together in contemplation. Hermione bit her lip in anticipation; she knew that look as well as another. She used it the most on her, Harry, and Ron during their student years, especially when they were involved with the conflicts of Harry and the prophecy. It mostly meant something was not likely to happen or that she disapproved of a choice at hand.

"Please Minerva," Hermione pleaded. "This is just one time. I promise if she causes any sorts of chaos I'll take her back immediately."

McGonagall sighed. "Very well. I'm not very keen on having an untrained creature on school ground but if it is under Hagrid's hands, I suppose it would not be all bad. And you are a woman of your word so if anything happens and it leads back to her, I expect her gone by the minute it happens."

"Definitely," Hermione nodded. "Thank you so much. I appreciate this."

The three of them began to move toward the entrance of the Great Hall; students who have afternoon classes for the day are still conversing over a plate of porridge, toast, eggs, and several bacon bits. Professors sat at their table, talking animatedly amongst themselves like the gossiping like a teenager. Heads turned and pairs of eyes gazed over at Hermione as she and Hugo walked down the familiar path with McGonagall, whispering loudly with the other while watching her in awe.

"No need." McGonagall waved her off. "Now can I get you two anything until then?"

"Is Rosie around?" Hugo asked eagerly.

Hermione smiled at him knowingly. She knew he wanted to see his sister, she had not doubt. He was less chipper since she left even though he was the most active individual aside from Lily.

"Last time I saw her was at breakfast and in class," McGonagall answered. "She should be attending her next one right now."

Hugo pouted disappointingly.

"Don't worry, sweetie," Hermione said. "I'm sure we'll see her before we leave and if not, we'll see her for Christmas."

Hugo sighed and then nodded. Hermione did not want to show Hugo her sadness in not seeing her daughter again, despite the fact that she was a little bit scared to confront the reaction she might get, yet she was still looking forward to see how Rose was doing in Hogwarts.

"Aunt Hermione? Hugo?" two familiar voices asked simultaneously in shocked yet pleased tones and they sounded very near.

The two Weasleys turned to the voices and Hugo cheered excitedly at its owners; two young boys with matching untidy jet black hair but one with the same almond-shaped green emeralds Hermione had stared into so many times for twenty-six years and the other were the sparkling bright brown eyes that reminded her of milk chocolate. One was wearing the intelligent blue colors of Ravenclaw and the other held on the proud red colors of Gryffindor.

Hermione had taken a moment to realize it was her two nephews.

"Al! James!" Hugo yelped in happiness as he jumped forward, practically flinging himself across the hall, and hopped into his two cousins, trapping each of them in one arm as he hugged them.

"What are you doing here, you little tyke?" James asked with a laugh. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you ran away and followed us here."

Hugo pulled away from them and shook his head, the smile not once faltering. "No, I'm here with mum on her job. We're taking care of a baby Hippogriff!"

McGonagall smiled at the scene and turned to Hermione saying, "I'll leave you be then," before she walked away towards the teacher's table.

Albus, who was momentarily enchanted by the said creature in his aunt's arms, looked at Hermione with tearful eyes and a grateful smile. He sprinted forward and collided into Hermione with a hug that nearly made her tumble over, his arms tightly gripped around her waist. His head was leaning against the arm with the shoulder that was somewhat throbbing from the pain but she did not voice it out. She was completely happy to finally be reunited with those she missed dearly.

"Hey," Hermione chuckled. "Merlin, I missed you so much. How are things? Are you doing well in your classes?"

"I missed you too, Auntie," Albus said, pulling away from her. "Everything is going good. History of Magic is really boring though." He looked at the Hippogriff. "Whoa, where did you get that?"

"Her," Hermione corrected. "And I got her from a forest – she's only a few days old."

"She doesn't look like it," Albus said.

"Hippogriffs grow ahead of their age, that's why they last so long," Hermione explained.

"Can I touch her?"

"Sure. She under a sleeping medicine so she won't feel a thing."

Albus gently touches Agnes' head, taking in the feel of her light feathers between his fingers. James approached forward with Hugo clutching on his sleeve like he used to do and passed Albus to give Hermione a hug from the side, laying his unruly head against her shoulder.

"James, did you get grow?" she asked teasingly. "You're a foot taller than the last time I saw you."

James grinned, rolling his eyes. "Hello to you too, Auntie. And no I didn't. Maybe you're growing shorter."

"You wish," Hermione smirked. "How are you doing in school? And Quidditch? Last time I heard you were going against Hufflepuff."

"We beat them – 30 to 210," James said proudly. "We're going against Gryffindor this weekend. The captain has us training like mad for it. Starting to drive me a bit batty."

"It will make an easier win for us then," Albus said, still petting Agnes.

"You would say that because you know with me on the team we're gonna beat Gryffindor," James retorted.

"You didn't say that last year."

"Last year was a fluke. This year is ours. That's why you're so threatened."

"Not even. Who would feel threatened by you?"

"You did – you never liked the costumes I dressed as. Always crying to mum to make me change."

"I was not threatened! I was scared! _Scared!_ You jumped at me out of nowhere with a bloody mouth!"

"James, give it a rest," said Hermione sternly.

"I'm only saying what's true," James said while grinning at his younger brother. "It isn't my fault mum is really good with makeup. Besides, I only dressed myself as one of the walkers from Walking Dead. There's nothing wrong w-"

James caught sight of Hermione staring down at him pointedly with a deep frown and he immediately stayed quiet.

"Anyway, why'd you come, Auntie?" Albus asked her, immediately taking the chance of his brother's momentary silence. "What's the Hippogriff for?"

"For Hagrid," Hermione said. "Poor baby needs a home suitable for her."

"She's so big," James pointed out. "Are you sure she's a baby?"

Hermione chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure. I saw her hatch myself."

"That sounds gross," James muttered under his breath but Hermione still heard it.

"She's really scary," Hugo said. "Small – but really scary. Make sure not to offend her or she'll go mad. I just learned that today."

"What happened?" Albus asked.

"Nothing serious," said Hermione, shooting a reassuring glance to Hugo who was looking guilty again.

Side by side, the four of them walked together out of the Great Hall, the two Potter siblings gazing in enchantment at the baby Hippogriff, and Hugo still grasping onto James' sleeve. A couple of students who pass them and returning from their lessons would greet Albus or James, others nervously welcoming Hermione to the castle and expressing their amazement to her achievements and involvement in the war, according to what stories their parents told them. James' teammates would stop him to talk about the upcoming practices and plays that their captain has planned. Eventually, they ended up sitting on the grand staircase with James sitting a step below and Hugo and Albus sitting on opposite sides of Hermione to be able to pet the Hippogriff.

"Have you heard from dad? Mum said he was on a mission," Albus said.

James glanced up at their aunt with the same expression of expectation that Albus is wearing.

Hermione frowned. "I haven't heard from him." She noticed Albus look downcast and James seem to grow worried. "But I'm sure he's fine! He never really contacts anyone on the first week. I'm sure he's settling over at Montana at the moment," she quickly said in hopes to ease them of their concerns.

"Yeah," Albus murmured.

"H-hey Auntie," James stuttered, briefly glancing at his younger brother. "I was wondering if you got any song suggestions by Queen for me. I have this friend who's been tearing me down with oldies – her mum loves the same kind of music as you do – and today we're going to talk about them. I need a good song to get her to shut up."

"Oh you mean your girlfriend?" Albus grinned slyly.

"She's not my girlfriend, you wanker," James growled. "She's an annoying show-off who tries to win against me through everything and thinks she's so perfect all because she's some pure-blood. She's full of herself."

"Hm, she sounds like a handful," Hermione mused knowingly.

"You have no idea," James groaned. "She's irritable."

"You know your Uncle Ron met someone he couldn't stand – she was too much of an insufferable know-it-all and highly dislikeable. She was an absolute nightmare, I may say. So naturally they did not get along very well and had a lot of rows for almost everything. It's a miracle the roof wasn't blown off when they were in the same roof."

"Oh yeah?" James' mood brightened up. "What did he do to her? Hex her? Pranked her?"

"No," said Hermione. "He married her."

James' eyes popped wide that they nearly shot out of his socket and Albus gasped in incredulity, his mouth snapped open. Hugo had his face hidden behind Hermione's back to not let his light snickering to be seen or heard.

"Blimey," James breathed out. "I didn't know that."

"How'd you managed?" asked Albus.

"It's a long – _long_ – story," Hermione chuckled. She saw that all of the boys, aside from Hugo, were looking at her skeptically and had moved closer to her. "Oh, I can't tell you now."

"Why not? We got time," Albus said.

"But I don't," Hermione pointed out, gesturing towards the slumbering creature in her arms. "The medicine does have a limit."

"Then shorten the story," James urged on. "Tell us in bullet points!"

Hermione laughed in merriment at their fervor attitude then sighed in defeat, saying, "Alright. Well, it started on our first year-"

"Mum? Hugo?"

Hermione stopped short at the new voice that broke into the conversation, and all heads turned to see the new addition to their small reunion. But Hermione knew she did not have to look to know who it was; this is a voice she had yearned to hear for the longest of time whether it was through cries and screams, she would respond to it in any way, awake or dead. The voice of the reason why she would be willing to walk through endless fires of hatred and to drown in a tsunami of rage if it meant to be able to be the last thing she would hear in the end.

Hugo had jumped onto his feet and climbed up the set of stairs to be engulfed in the robes sporting the cunning green colors of Slytherin that clash with the blazing redness of her hair that was loose and free from the ponytail Hermione had last seen her in.

Hermione stood up carefully to not drop Agnes, her eyes never peeling away from the young girl warmly embracing Hugo, taking in the sight she had missed for the past month – her freckled face, her pale skin, her slightly red cheeks, and beautiful smile. She was laughing carelessly into her brother's shoulder, voicing out her happiness to see her other half in person again, telling him how much he missed her, how much she has to tell him, and asking him what was his reason being here. But, as Hugo started to answer her question, her eyes looked over his shoulder and Hermione could have sworn her breath was knocked out of her once those same piercing blue eyes she had first looked into connected with hers.

This was the moment she had been waiting for ever since the thought of coming to Hogwarts came to her mind - ever since she had watched her climb on the Hogwarts Express – ever since she watched her leave – ever since they broke apart. And Hermione never felt so petrified in her life than she is right now. She had no reason to but she could not help herself when this moment meant everything to her. It was worth more than her life.

Hermione forced an awkward smile on her face and then uttered out the name of the one who is capable of breaking her heart continuously,

"Rose."

* * *

 **Cliffhanger!**

 **A:N:** Please let me know if I got some of the translation in Greek wrong. My friend helped me with this but I need to make sure it's accurate. I would very much appreciate it. Thank you.

 **Aperi Intrare:** Open to enter

 **Káto:** Down

 **Ftérna:** Heel

 **Irémise:** Calm down

 **Chalaróste , korítsi . Ola einai mia chara:** Calm down, girl. I need you to relax.

 **Please Review!**

 **Lypámai:** I'm sorry.


	15. Thorn of every Rose

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations or characters used in it, and the songs mentioned in it.

Wow...I'm speechless with you guys. I saw all your reviews and I'm overwhelmed by the reactions of Rose finally making an appearance and the anticipation for her meeting with Hermione. I knew you lot wanted this to happen but I never knew this much. Thank you all so much for your words. You're all amazing!

I hope you all love this chapter. I am so sorry I took so long. It's the Christmas holidays so that means traditions and my family gets very into it so I barely had a chance to get in touch with my laptop. Anyhow, I finally finished (obviously xD).

Enjoy!

* * *

 _I know a girl_

 _She puts the color inside of my world_

 _But she's just like a maze_

 _Where all of the walls all continually change_

 _And I've done all I can_

 _To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands_

 _Now I'm starting to see_

 _Maybe it's got nothing to do with me_

\- Daughters; John Mayer

* * *

 _"Our willingness to wait reveals the value we place on what we're waiting on."_

\- Anonymous

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Thorn Of Every Rose**

For the first time since Hermione can remember, she was rendered speechless. She could not find what words to say to her daughter aside from her name.

Rose hadn't changed much; her face remained freckled across the nose and her cheeks were still shaded pink as Hermione remembered it to be. Her pale skin still seemed smooth as a newborn baby's would feel. Her crooked smile was charming. Her eyes were deep blue as an open ocean. And her hair, now loose from her ponytail and splayed across her shoulders and back, was red and alight as a campfire flare. She was beautiful – she was not a little girl anymore. She was not that four year old who wanted a doll for her birthday, or that nine year old who enjoyed eating off the popcorn from the Christmas tree, she was an eleven year old already taking on her path up to womanhood.

Hermione should not be thinking of her as if she was already eighteen but with Rose it was an exception because she matured faster than Hermione could catch up.

Hermione wanted to ask her a question; she had so many – how was she settling into the Hogwarts life? Has she made any friends? Was she on her best behavior in Neville's lessons? How are her marks in class? What has she been up to? – but she stayed quiet. She knew this reunion was as out of balance for Rose as it is for her because when she saw her, she only nodded hesitantly before she turned her attention back to Hugo and her cousins. Hermione did not push it.

Right now, Hermione is following the kid's trail instinctively down the path to Hagrid's hut, watching them speak about their small adventures for the past month, laughing loudly, playfully teasing, and sometimes debating on a random subject they would stick on. Hermione could not bring her sight off of Rose as they walked down the unsteady, rocky steps of the steep hill. She did not have to ask neither of the kids to hold Hugo's hand along the way in fear he might stumble over the steps because Rose had already wordlessly held his hand like the overprotective sister she is to him. Hermione secretly smiled at the sight she missed seeing; the last time she saw that was when Hugo was taking his first steps and she was guiding him.

Third year and sixth year students were walking up the stoned steps upwards, carefully passing them, but stopping once they see Hermione's face and stay gazing at her in disbelief, much to Hermione's embarrassment. She hoped that Hagrid returned from the forest soon because she did not want to go in there, even if it meant for Agnes, but she will not allow her children and her nephews to step foot in a dangerous area even if she did know spells that will keep them protected. She did not know if there are any new creatures in the forest as over the years her old comrade, Luna Lovegood, had found many species that the wizarding world did not exist or were told to be mythical, and Hermione did not know much about them. She did not want to risk their safety.

"Hey Auntie," said Albus, glancing back at her. "What are we going to do for Christmas this year?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "I haven't spoken to your mother and father about it yet. Maybe we'll go to your grandparent's house."

"Which one?"

"The Weasleys."

James groaned. "I don't like going over there – that ghoul in the attic makes so much noise and Lily ends up crying at night because it gives her nightmares. Can't we go to Granny Carol's instead?"

"I like the ghoul," Hugo said. "Dad's funny with it. He always goes mad and starting saying bad words at it."

 _Now I know when he picked up Ron's language_ , Hermione thought, remembering the night when Hugo spoke foully over a Famous Wizard Card.

"But Granny Carol has wicked music," James retorted. "Remember New Year's? Best choice of songs I've ever heard. Who knew David Bowie could be so amazing!"

Albus nodded. "That's true. But what about Aerosmith? Those were good songs."

"How can I forget?" James scoffed. " _Mama Kin_ is a legend."

"How wrong can you two be? Really," Rose said, her voice startling Hermione a bit as she had not heard her speak for a while. She was peeking over her shoulder whilst she continued to walk down the steps, still holding Hugo's hand protectively. " _Rag Doll_ is the legacy to what makes Aerosmith. If it weren't for that song, they wouldn't have made it to the Hot 100's Top 20. If you keep thinking like that, James then you'll never win against Mercy in those debates you always have with her."

"Tsk. We'll see about that," James mumbled.

Hermione was fairly impressed by Rose's knowledge in music history, especially in the old music she had grown up with. She did not know that Rose had given attention to the many songs she would have playing around the house occasionally because she never heard her speak about it or stay around in the same room to listen to them. She thought Rose preferred the type of music that kids in her day listen to now but Hermione should have known better that she was not like the other girls because she never once heard her sing a Justin Bieber song or play a One Direction album. She was not sure if she should feel disappointed for not knowing that Rose shared the same love in music as her or if she should feel happy to see they have something in common.

Agnes was beginning to squirm in Hermione's arms, stirring slightly. She nuzzled her beak into Hermione's chest as she whined lightly.

"Is she waking up?" Hugo asked worriedly.

"A little," Hermione murmured. "The medicine is wearing off."

The small group fastened their pace down the steep hill. It took them little time to be able to reach the bottom in half the time and Hermione found Hagrid where she had hoped for him to be; strolling across his garden, dragging a heavy bag behind him, and adding mulch around a small hemlock tree that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge pale spider. Next to the growing tree was Buckbeak, snoring deeply. He was now trimming the hedges near his pumpkins while they approached him casually, hearing him lightly humming a cheerful tune with a smile hovering around the edges of his worn lips and within the bushed beard. Hermione was glad to be able to see him at ease after so many years.

"Hagrid!" the kids shouted together as they broke out into a sprint toward the half-giant.

Hagrid snapped his head away from the hedge and then chortled heartily once he saw a familiar blend of red and black heading his way.

"If it isn't teh terrible three!" he laughed as he opened his big arms for them to jump into and then engulfed them in a large, heart-warming hug that had them lifted from the ground. "I 'new it was weird I haven' seen yeh lot at all today."

Hermione stood behind, taking in the bittersweet scene in front of her. It had not been too long ago that Hagrid had hugged her, Ron, and Harry like that at that age and he still did throughout the years but it had been a long time since the last time. As she watched him lower the kids back on their feet, she felt nostalgic. Time truly had flown past her without her noticing but she can still remember her childhood as if it happened yesterday.

"You're calling us that too?" Rose asked with a laugh, shaking her head. "We're not that bad of a group are we?"

"Gawd knows wit' yer small mischiefs yeh've done it is enough to call yeh tha'," Hagrid said. "Yeh lucky yer professors didn' give yeh detentions on teh firs' day."

"It was one time," protested Albus, blushing brightly. "I didn't mean to charm that bird! Sheesh, one accident and I'm already known as a troublemaker!"

"Troublemaker is too big of a word for you, little brother," James remarked. "Clumsy or uncoordinated – yes. But troublemaker? You're nowhere near my level."

"Shut up, James. I'm not sure that's something to be proud about," Albus retorted.

"It's not," Rose sighed. "James, remember my little brother is here. Last thing I need is him doing the things you do."

"I'm not _that_ bad of an influence," James said. "Huges looks up to me, don'cha mate?"

"Yes!" Hugo agreed, making Rose sigh again.

"What are yeh doing here, little tyke?" Hagrid asked curiously. "It's still a long way fo' yeh teh come teh Hogwarts, isn' it?"

Hugo frowned. "Yes." Then he replaced it with a bright smile. "I'm here on a job with mum!"

"Mum?" Hagrid blinked in bewilderment before he glanced over the kid's heads and then lets out a gasp of surprise at the sight of a recognizable head of brown curls standing a few feet before him. "Merlin's beard! If it isn't little Hermione!"

"I'm not so little anymore," Hermione laughed cheerfully as she finally approached the missed half-giant. "Hey Hagrid."

Hagrid wasted no time in capturing her in one of his famous hugs and lifting her from the ground, as he held her snuggly within his arms.

"Oh, careful!" Hermione warned frantically, wiggling around a bit in his arms to hold Agnes in the side and preventing her from being crushed between them. "As much as I missed you, Hagrid, I don't want to suffocate the poor baby!"

"A baby, yeh say?" Hagrid said as he placed her back on her feet and glanced down at the small bundle in her arms with interest. "Yeh and Ron been busy, I see. I though' yeh'd wait a lil' longer until yeh have another."

Hermione blushed. "Oh, good heaven's no! Ron and I are not planning to have another child anytime soon – we have too much on our plate for that. Actually, this baby is for you."

"Fo-what?" Hagrid stammered, suddenly flustered. "Hermione, as much as I love takin' care of another as my own, a baby isn't really my greatest ability. Dragons and such, I can do but a baby is-"

"Oh but this kind of baby will definitely be no trouble for you," Hermione smirked. She reached for the blanket covering the infant's face and tugged it back, revealing the sleeping face of a sedated Hippogriff enjoying the lands of dreams, before she glanced back at a shocked Hagrid saying, "Hagrid – meet Agnes."

"Surprise!" Hugo yelled excitedly. "It's a baby Hippogriff!"

Hermione held out the bundle to the gamekeeper, who gingerly held out his big hands to cradle the creature close in his wide chest, gazing down at the newborn in a light of such fondness that could be enough to make woman cry by how tender he was staring at Agnes like it was his own. The Hippogriff seemed like the normal size of a human baby in Hagrid's arms and, although she was starting to stir, she whine.

"A Hippogriff," Hagrid breathed out in disbelief. "I haven' seen 'nother since Buckbeak."

Hermione felt a gentle tap on her injured shoulder, making her wince, and the children let out surprised yelps – Hugo's being the loudest - whilst they clambered behind Hagrid, peeking carefully from the side. Albus was the only one who stayed beside Hermione, unmoved by their unexpected reaction, but seeming amused. Hermione glanced over her shoulder only to find herself facing the pointed curve of a beak.

"Hey, speaking of Hippogriffs," she chuckled. "How you been Buckbeak?"

The said creature squawked affectionately at the brunette witch, nuzzling his hard beak against Hermione's soft cheek, causing her to laugh at his touch. She raised one hand to stroke his feather on the side of his head.

The adult Hippogriff had grown different from his species five years after the war; he was not as proud as the others and he would approach them without trouble of feeling threatened unless necessary. She did not know if he still act proudly during Hagrid's lessons but she can assume that he acts so to be fed by Hagrid. She knows how much he adored eating on those dead ferrets snacks.

"Who's the coward now, James?" asked Albus teasingly with a sly grin to his eldest sibling, crossing his arms.

"Shut up," James said arrogantly. "I'm not being a coward; I'm being cautious – _cautious._ "

"Sure you are," Albus rolled his eyes.

"Why is he so afraid?" Hermione asked, still petting the Hippogriff.

"He tried to impress his _girlfriend_ -" Albus began to explain.

"She's _not_ my girlfriend!" James interrupted.

"- and he ended up get kicked in the bollocks for taunting poor Buckbeak," Albus finished, plainly ignoring his brother. "Hagrid warned him but he didn't listen."

"Obviously arrogance won't get you anywhere, Jamie," Rose grinned.

"Shut it, Rosie," James grumbled. "You're the last person who should be talking – you're hiding too."

"Hugo dragged me," Rose retorted haughtily before turning to the youngest among the group. "Why'd you run? You've been with a Hippogriff all day!"

"That one's bigger," Hugo answered timidly. "And scarier," he added.

Hermione frowned. She knows that her son will not let go over what happened at S.P.E.W. Headquarters and the experience of facing a near-death has him quite frightened to the bone after seeing the ugly side of nature's creatures, but she wished that he stopped being guilty over her getting hurt for protecting him. She did not like the fact that he is carrying an unnecessary burden of something she did not worry over. She would need to explain to him later how motherly instincts work and how he would understand later in life.

"This one's different," Rose said. "He's quite friendly."

Hugo shook his head. "Hippogriffs are dangerous." He pointed at Agnes in Hagrid's arms. "That one hurt mum."

"Hugo," Hermione sighed.

"Blimey," said Hagrid worriedly. "What happened? Are yeh alrigh', Hermione?"

"I'm fine - it's just a wound," Hermione murmured. "I forgot to tell Hugo how to approach a Hippogriff and Agnes doesn't know how to react to strangers. I acted on instinct to protect Hugo but I' fine because my co-worker put some dittany on it…it's healing right now."

From the corner of her eye, Hermione can see Rose inhaled sharply and stiffen. She glanced over at her daughter only for her to look away with her arms crossed and muttered something incoherent under her breath. Hermione frowned deeper. Rose had not once looked at her since then and would indirectly speak to her through her cousins about subjects she brings up but never once towards her.

"Let me see," Hagrid said, already approaching her.

"Hagrid, it's-"

"Let me see," Hagrid repeated.

Hermione sighed, knowing by the firm tone of his voice that there was no chance of persuading him; she pulled her jacket down from her shoulders, letting them hang on her forearms, and hesitantly turned around. She remained perfectly still as she listened to the various shocked gasps to her wound. A whimper was heard also.

"Does it hurt?" Albus asked.

"Obviously," scoffed James.

"James," Hermione said sternly over her shoulder before she answered calmly, "It hurts only a little. It's still healing – the wound was deeper than I thought."

"That looks wicked though," James admitted shamelessly. "It looks like dad's war scars but fresh!"

"You would think that," Rose rolled her eyes. "She's lucky it wasn't big as Buckbeak or she wouldn't be here by now. Probably living in the hospital."

Hermione fought back the smile that was trying to break out on her face. She may not know much about Rose like Ron does but the one trait she knew about Rose was that whenever she worried over another her voice would waver and tremble. Hermione had heard it many times when Hugo would scrap his knee or elbow at their younger ages and it made her heart swell with the hope she lost in reconnecting with Rose. It may seem rather childish and naïve to put all of her faith on a small sensation in her chest but she needed something to look up to when it came to her daughter.

"Rosie is righ'. Yeh should be more careful, Hermione," Hagrid said. "Yer lucky it was a baby Hippogriff. A grown one would 'ave torn your arm off."

"I know," Hermione nodded. She slipped the jacket over her shoulders again and faced them with a calm smile. "But my son was in trouble so what else could I have done? Certainly didn't have time to cast a spell, that's for sure. I wasn't going to let anything happen to him."

Hagrid suddenly chortled, "Always puttin' others before yer'self – yeh don' change a bit!"

Hermione smiled and shrugged.

"How 'bout we go inside an' have some tea?" Hagrid offered kindly. "I have 'his new brand I made an' it leaves yer tastebuds tinglin'."

"Not literally, right?" Rose asked nervously. "The last batch we tried, we were left with itching throats and green tongues."

Hagrid grinned sheepishly. "I promise it isn' those spikey leaves. Madam Pomfrey managed teh cure yeh in the en', righ'."

"Made me miss a week of lessons," Rose mumbled.

Hermione raised a brow. "You gave the kids a tea with some leaves you didn't know about?"

"It was suppose' teh be organic. Don' worry – it wasn' poisonous."

The group walked together to Hagrid's hut with Buckbeak trailing behind them soundly, kicking up leaves and pebble along the way. Hagrid held the door open for them to enter first before he stepped in next and closed the door. Hermione looked around the room with a bittersweet smile as many memories of her Hogwarts years flooded in her mind – her first visit – the time when she would spend time in the hut because Harry and Ron were upset with her over the Firebolt – and many more. This was basically one of her many sanctuaries away from the pressure of her previous daily life and Hagrid was her confidant.

It had changed drastically since the time Bellatrix had set his hut on fire; the fireplace was still the same although it does have some dark chards from the fire, but the old massive bed was replaced, the pheasant and hams in the ceiling were gone, Hagrid's pink umbrella was changed to a red one, and the years of food for the magical creatures he has under his care were brewing up in the pot over the fire. It was heartbreaking to see the items of their past suddenly burned to ashes and never being able to gaze at a piece to reminisce a wonderful memory it held.

A ragged, booming bark came from the east side and then an oversized boarhound dog came barreling towards Hermione, knocking her flat on her back. The children laughed pleasantly at the sight as Hermione tried to move her face away from the slobbery tongue attempting to lick her face.

"Fang – down yeh lazy dog," Hagrid ordered, hardly firm, but mostly amused. "Let teh woman breathe, will yeh."

"Oof," Hermione wheezed out, feeling a heavy paw press against her sternum and then her face was beginning to turn blue as she was being lavished by saliva.

"Come on yeh." Hagrid came forward and effortlessly lifted the overgrown mammal from the suffering brunette witch then hung the dog over his shoulder like a sack as he held out his free hand. Hermione accepted it and she was later hauled up to her feet before she began to wipe the saliva off her face.

"What have you been feeding him?" she asked Hagrid. "He's bigger than the last time I saw him."

"He's been eatin' more portions than ever – less walking," Hagrid answered casually.

"I think it should be the other way around," Hermione grumbled as Hagrid placed Fang back down on the floor and kept him retrained from pouncing on her again. She tentatively pat him on the head with a light smile. "It is nice to see you again, Fang."

The boarhound barked in agreement and appreciation as he leaned into her touch. He tilted his head and licked her hand, coating her fingers in slimy layers of saliva, making Hermione grimace at the feel. She gave him a slight grin as she discreetly wiped her hand over her pants. She loved Fang dearly but this was mostly the reasons why she is a cat person – less mess, less cleaning.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Auntie," Albus teased with a grin.

"Oh hush you cheeky boy," quipped Hermione with a matching grin.

Hagrid went to place the sleeping Hippogriff on the lone bed in the far corner of the room before he went to reach for the kettle by the fireplace. Hermione and the kids went to sit by the small round table; there was not enough room so Hermione had to have Hugo sitting on her lap. She tried not to make it obvious that she was sadden when Rose made to sit on the other side of Albus instead to not be next to her.

"By teh way, how's it goin' with teh case?" Hagrid asked as he filled up the jug with milk. "Been all over teh papers."

Hermione sighed. "It's been stressful but I think we finally managed to get what we need. Court is next month – a little unnerving knowing I'll be facing that bloke again."

"Don' worry much 'bout it," Hagrid reassured. "Yer one of teh reasons why half of 'em Death Eaters are locked up. The bloke is 'nother in the line to face his karma."

"Thanks Hagrid," Hermione smiled.

"Is it scary?" Albus asked. "You know – meeting the same people you faced before? Don't you ever get scared?"

Hermione's hand immediately went to her left arm, her thumb rubbing over the wound there under the sleeve of her jacket, as memories from nineteen years ago started to play in her mind rapidly – the two unknown Death Eaters she fought with Harry – Antonin Dolohov who had hit her with curse that caused her ribs to throb and crack with the slightest of movements – the Death Eaters, including Travers, she had dueled with Kingsley on the way to take Harry to safety at the Burrow – Thorfinn in the café at Tottenham Court Road – Xenophilius on his attempt to save Luna – and then there was Bellatrix Lestrange. The woman who had used the Cruciatus Curse on her more than she can count and later carved the horrid word _MUDBLOOD_ on her arm with a knife.

Hermione shivered lightly at the memory of her screaming in agonizing pain as she traced the scarred word through the sleeve, shook her head to erase the torturous moment, and then looked at the children with a strong smile. She did not want to show them any signs of her vulnerability from that day, not when it came from the same people she had survived from.

"It's…a bit uncomfortable but not enough to stop me from doing my job," Hermione answered carefully, hoping her words did not shake or her voice tremble.

"Don't they try to attack you?"

"Your father disarms them of their wands and Aurors would be escorting me whenever I meet up with them," Hermione said. "A couple of them have tried to physically but ended up getting stunned and dragged. Not smart of their part."

"Sheesh," James murmured. "And I thought Muggle government was bad. I'm never working in politics."

"Never say never," Hermione grinned.

Hagrid had finished making the tea; he carried the tray containing large mugs to the table and placed one in front of them. He reached for a chair he had resting from across the room, dragged it to the table, and then sat with the group as he took a sip of his tea.

"What about you kids?" Hermione asked. "What's new?"

"Well I hate my DADA teacher with a passion," James said casually.

"Doesn't everyone?" Hermione chuckled, lightly blowing into her hot tea. "How come?"

"He's full of himself - making us take exams of himself – always talking about himself – he's so in love with himself, I swear," James complained exaggeratedly. "I wouldn't be surprised if he married his reflection one day."

"Hmm, sounds oddly familiar," Hermione mused.

"It should be," James snickered. "Uncle Ron said you fancied the bloke once before you saw how much of a fake he is."

Hermione's eyes widen in realization. "Lockhart?"

"Bingo," James nodded.

"I can't believe he's finally out of St. Mungo's," Hermione said. "Or that he's back at Hogwarts for that matter."

"I can't believe you fancied _him_ ," Albus countered and Hermione's ears went pink.

"I was thirteen! Spare me! I recently became a teen!"

"At least it wasn't some lame vampire," James retorted. "I don't understand why girls go off their rocker over a pale bloke who's decades over their age. What's so romantic about that?" He turned to Rose. "Do you know?"

"How should I know?" Rose asked.

"Well you're a girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, well spotted," Rose said sarcastically. "Just because I am doesn't mean I swoon over fictional vampires as a southern belle like another would. That's a very sexist assumption of you, Jamie."

"Ooh, someone's tea is bitter," James grumbled. "Needs some extra sugar there, Rosie?"

"Need some more manners, Jamie?"

"Oh but do you need any sense of humor?"

"Like you have any."

The boys laughed heartily at the small bickering session between cousins while Rose tentatively sipped on her tea and Hermione noticed her silence but she did not voice it out. She gazed at her from the corner of her eye as she took a swing of her own cup.

"What about you, Al?" Hermione asked.

"I hate Herbology," Albus said. "I pricked myself too much with that blasted spiky bushes. But I had fun in Flying Class. I have it with Scorpius and Rose."

Hermione looked back at her daughter with a cautious gaze. "And how's it going in that class? I remember how hard it was to get the broom up."

"Fine," Rose answered quickly before taking another sip of her tea.

Hermione frowned disappointingly at the curt response she got but she shook off the feeling and took a sip of her tea again. Albus and James stared at her pitifully, Hagrid sighed deeply in shame as he ran his finger along the rim of his mug, and Hugo was watching the scene with wondrous interest. Neither spoke about the brief exchange between the mother and daughter; Hermione assumed they were too afraid to say anything about it because she can literally feel the temperature of the room drop and become frigid. She was sure it was her who felt cold because the sun was still shining outside.

"Where are the others?" Hugo asked, finally breaking the tension in the air, to everyone's relief.

"Fred is off somewhere with his chums – Roxanne is probably at the pitch with her best mate stalking the Quidditch players – Molly is probably deducting points of a poor fourth year by now – and Lucy is probably in class by now," James answered casually.

"And Victoire? Dominique? Louis?"

"Victoire could be writing a love letter to Teddy right now – Dominique is studying for her N.E.W.T's – and Louis is at the Hospital Wing now. He has the flu," Albus added.

"I miss Teddy," Hugo murmured solemnly.

Hermione stroked his hair back from his face comfortingly. "We miss him too and I'm sure he misses us," she said. "I'm sure he'll come by Christmas – he always does."

"Can we write to him when we go home?" Hugo asked hopefully.

"Absolutely."

"I remember how Teddy looked when he was a lad," Hagrid said with a chortle. "Smallest little baby I ever seen. He was smaller than Harry. Then again I held him when he was only a year old. Teddy was how many months when I held him?"

"Three months," Hermione answered. "Harry didn't get to meet him until a month after the war."

"No wonder," Hagrid grinned. "An' now he's workin' with dragons. Time flies fas'."

"Tell me about it," Hermione mumbled. "I'm still against his choice of career. Too dangerous."

"I'm sure he's doin' fine," Hagrid reassured. "He's workin' with Ron's brother, Charlie. He's learn teh bes' from him."

"As long as he doesn't get near a Horntail – I'm fine."

"Hey Auntie," said Albus. "Do you think maybe you and dad will take us to the Ministry one day?"

"What do you have in mind?" Hermione raised a brow.

"I heard some third years talking about how Hagrid showed them some amazing magical creatures in the forest – I only saw Buckbeak – and I'm planning to take Care for Magical Creatures in my third year so what better way to get a head start than going to your job. You take care of magical creatures at your job right? If you're not too busy then maybe I can go with you for the summer."

"Well more than that but close," Hermione said. "But yeah, I'm sure I can arrange it possible for you to come."

At that moment, a loud screech filled in the strained atmosphere of the room, making others jump, and Rose was out of her seat. Fluidly, she rose – she had grown a few inches taller than Hermione thought – her back to them, and she was out of the hut before anyone could utter a word. Hermione stared after her in shock; she can see Rose through the door she left open behind, walking over to a resting Buckbeak and sitting next to him while she stroked his feathers. The look on her face was covered by a mask of aggravation, sadness, and thoughtful as she spoke to him.

James sighed, "I'll talk to her."

"No," Hermione said when he was starting to stand from his chair. "I'll talk to her."

Hugo climb off his mother's lap for her to stand, ignoring the curious eyes of the sitting males, as she made her way out of the hut and slowly walked towards her daughter. Buckbeak had noticed her presence from the corner of his eye but he made no attempt to move as he was enjoying Rose caressing him kindly and she knew that Rose was aware of her existence with the way how her shoulders stiffened but did not move.

"Hey," Hermione breathed out.

Rose grunted disgruntledly but she did not move.

"Can we talk?" Hermione asked carefully.

"There's nothing to talk about," Rose said curtly.

"There's a lot to talk about."

"No there isn't."

"Rosie-"

"Don't call me that," Rose interrupted heatedly. She shot up to her feet and crossed her arms, never turning to face her mother. " _You_ don't get to call me that."

"Then tell me why," Hermione said.

"You know why," Rose mumbled. "Don't act daft."

Normally Hermione would have corrected her to not speak so disrespectfully towards her as she is her mother but she retrained herself from acting upon authority because she knew that she is practically walking on thin ice with Rose's emotions running rampant. Hermione did not know how stable her own feelings were and she did not want to take the risk of crumbling.

" _Rose_ ," Hermione corrected herself. "Please talk to me."

"Why should I?" Rose scoffed. "I got nothing to say to you."

"But I got plenty to say to you," Hermione countered. "I know you don't want to hear from me but I really want to talk to you – I've been meaning to. If you can just please hear me out-"

"Oh that's rich of you!" Rose laughed sarcastically as she whirled to face her mother and Hermione felt her heart constrict at the sight bestowed upon her; two pale blue eyes glowering at her with raging red anger. "Why should I listen to you out of all people? You're the last person who should be asking for my attention when you haven't given me yours in years! – Six years to be exact!"

Hermione can feel her eyes beginning to sting but she inhaled deeply and nodded, "I know its selfish of me to ask for even a second of your time, Rose, I'm well-aware of that. But I really need to talk to you – _we_ need to talk. Six years is way too long."

Rose huffed, rolling her eyes, and turned away from her. Hermione took a hesitant step closer to her, watching her intently.

"Please," she pleaded. "Talk to me."

"No," Rose said firmly before she walked forward away from her and started to make her way down to the path where the stoned steps are.

Hermione followed her almost immediately; she felt all the air in her leave with every step Rose took farther from her. Her hands trembled and her lips quivered. This is what she was afraid of facing; the feeling of dejection, failure, and depression. She knew that she would be leaving with a cloud of gloom looming over her but the stubborn part of her would not allow her to just step away from this – she needed to resolve this tangled mess with her daughter as much as she can. It has been too long – six years is far too long.

"Rose!" she called after her daughter. "Wait!"

The young redhead ignored her; Hermione's voice seems to have made her increase her pace in walking and she was already three steps further from her. Hermione ended up jogging up to her to end walking beside her and keeping a steady rhythm with her footsteps.

"Rose, look-"

"What do you want?" Rose suddenly screeched out through gritted teeth, coming to a sudden halt, as she glared at Hermione with a clenched jaw and balled up hands. "Who do you think you are? Coming out of nowhere acting all caring and loving? Acting as if you won the mother of the year when you haven't even been mine since I was five! You haven't been my mum back then and you won't be now! So you should just take Hugo and leave and never talk to me again since you're so good at that!"

Hermione was shocked into silence as she listened and watched her daughter pour out the feelings she had bottled up since they saw each other back at the castle. She did not know if Rose knew but she had endlessly tears lingering on her cheeks and dripping from her chin like rain droplets, each of them making Hermione's blood become colder. She had caused this – she was the reason why her daughter – her firstborn – her first miracle – was hurting and crying. Because of her mistakes she was filled with so much pain and sadness that she had kept to herself for the past six years and now that Hermione is seeing it with her own eyes, she felt unworthy to be standing in front of Rose. Unfit. Pathetic. And horrible. What kind of mother makes their own child cry? Never in a million – billion – years would she have expected to be that kind of parent.

Finally Rose noticed that she had been crying through her rant and quickly turned away from Hermione as she rapidly wipe her tears away with the sleeves of her robes.

"I thought of you today," Hermione said numbly, her eyes staring directly at her. "And last night – actually I think about you all the time. I can't remember a time when I don't really think about you. I would think about your father and your brother but you would pop into my mind at the most random times and I wouldn't even be doing anything that would remind me of you. And other times when I am, you're in my mind."

Rose lowered her arms from her face, revealing her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks puffed from her dried tears. Her face was somewhat emotionless if it hadn't been for the curious glint shining off her eyes.

"I would think about you in the mornings as soon as I'm awake – I would think about how you used to sneak into the room to jump on me and your father and demand us to give you apple juice because it was your favorite. I would think of the times I used to drive you to school and I would tell you to keep your feet off the dashboard," Hermione continued. "I would think of you when I'm at work – I know how much you loved playing around with the elves while I did paperwork and make them have a tea party with you. And I would think of you when I read to Hugo – I always think of the time I used to take you to the park and read _The Perks of being a Wallflower_ to you and then later again for bed. I even think of you when I'm shopping for groceries because of that one time you didn't know any better and ate a whole bag of grapes and I ended up paying for it either way."

The sting in Hermione's eyes became greater as she spoke back to those memories of her living daily thinking of a lost relationship – all those dreadful days when Rose's smile, laughter, and beautiful eyes would suddenly come to her thoughts unexpectedly during an activity. One action out of the course of her day would bring her a hundred memories of what she yearned to exist again and she would be left with an empty void in her heart that could not seem to be filled with the love of her family or friends because she knew only the significant love she longed for could only replace the hole. The formed tears fell over as Hermione spoke again.

"But out of all things I think about the most – I think about those nights when I would come home late and I would go to your room only to find it empty and find you at Hugo's room instead or the both of you in the common room," she sniffed. "I would stand there listening to you sing to him to sleep. I would be so afraid to move because I didn't want you to stop and I knew you would if you knew I was there."

"Why didn't you do anything?" Rose asked softly, blinking her red eyes. "Hugo was always waiting for you and that's all he wanted."

"I know and I wanted to," Hermione said, biting her lip. "But I wanted to hear you sing. I didn't know you have such a beautiful voice or that you loved hearing the Beatles."

"You would have known sooner if you came home," Rose pointed out.

"I know." Hermione hung her head low for a moment before she looked up at Rose hopefully. "Can we talk?"

"Just because you said that doesn't mean I want to talk to you," Rose sneered. "It doesn't work that way."

"I know it doesn't," Hermione said. "But I know you want to talk."

"Oh? And what makes you so smug about it?"

"Because you're still here. Whether you got it from me or your father, the both of us walk away whenever we're too upset to talk. But you're still here."

"You'll just come after me."

"I won't lie – I will." Hermione nodded.

Rose furrowed her eyebrows. "Why now?"

Hermione pursed her lips, lick them, then bit them before she answered in a stutter, "I-I miss you, Rose. I miss you a lot. I've been missing you too much and I want to stop missing you. I want you to stop hating me so much. I want this…distance between us to stop getting any greater than it is now. It has to end."

Rose stared at her deliberately, crossing her eyes suddenly shyly, her shoulders hunched up self-consciously, and shifting her feet nervously across the dirt. Hermione understood how she felt; it was awkward to be standing around in the same air of the one person they used to be close with after so long has passed and then for them to be standing a foot away was foreign to them. They felt like they were being forced back into an old routine that had been like a broken record and they were walking on the cracked shards on their toes.

Finally, after a minute of suffocating silence, Rose mumbled, "I don't hate you. I just…" she trailed off tensely.

"Can we please talk?"

Rose opened her mouth but then she closed it when she noticed a group of students heading down their way from the top of the hill and cleared her throat, grumbling under her breath. Hermione did not understand.

"I'm sorry, what?" she said.

"People…" Rose murmured, nodding her head to the side.

Hermione followed her gaze upward, noticed the huddled student approaching them from the steps, and understood. She looked back at Rose with a shy smile.

"How about we take a walk around Black Lake?" she suggested.

Rose glanced at the hut. "What about the Hippogriff? And Hugo?"

"He'll be fine as long as he's with Hagrid," Hermione reassured. "I trust him."

Rose seemed unconvinced, glancing between at the hut and back at her mother with doubtful eyes, fidgeting with her robes. Hermione waited patiently while she watched her contemplate, not wanting to push her luck. Then, after Rose looked away from the hut again and down at her shoes, she nodded.

"Alright."

Hermione fought back the relieved smile and the giddiness bubbling up inside her; she just inhaled deeply and gestured a hand up the stoned steps.

"Shall we?"

Rose bit her lip and wordlessly began to walk up the steps, passing by the many chattering students coming oppositely. Hermione followed her not-too-closely but remained in a respectable distance as they trudged up the steep hill in unwieldy silence but also with quiet hope.

* * *

The Black Lake was glistening beautifully under the beautifully shining sky and held a magnificent shade of gray darkening to black from the shore to the horizon. The mountains stood tall with their fresh green field, large boulders, and towering trees of all kinds. Silhouettes of birds fluttering out from within the trees or gliding into them can be seen while others flew south. If one focused hard they could see the forms of families of creatures together at the shore by the mountains drinking from the clear water and preparing a meal for their younglings. There were students sitting on rocks close by the water, shoes kicked off, robes left on the grass, textbooks splayed out around them, and their feet dipping in the water by their toes whilst they talked freely. Others were lazily walking along the line of the bank, taking in the sights, and skipping pebbles across the calm water surface. The ripples would make the light in the water shimmer like glitter.

Hermione smiled bitterly at the view, feeling another wave of nostalgia wash over her as more memories of her earlier years flooded her mind. She had learned from this great spot that Hogwarts did not have magic because of just spells, potions, or the lessons but that the area of everything being born natural and surreal is what made everything unbelievable to be considered true. The castle was majestic with its high towers, the boats for first years were excellent for not needed to be moved with paddles, the carriages were incredible because of the Thestrals, but it was the lake that Hermione thought to have all the magic. It was real and believable. It was simply gorgeous. She cannot remember the many times this great place made her feel forgotten she was a witch at a school and not a Muggle girl on a trip. It was just that amazing.

Hermione glanced to her left to see Rose stuck in an enchanted trance, her eyes glazed over with a wondrous fog that Hermione just knew she was breathless at the sight in front of her and she couldn't blame her becoming mindless for a second. The lake had the advantage of doing that.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, her voice making Rose break out of her stare.

Rose nodded. "It's nice. I don't come here often though."

"Why is that?"

Rose shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't."

"Well, a little advice – come here as much as you can," Hermione suggested. "Especially during winter. The lake freezes over – the trees are covered in snow – and the forms of the icicles on the branches are just beautiful. You'll think you're in a winter wonderland."

"I'll consider it," Rose said.

They did not talk after that, both too embarrassed to make the next response. Hermione leaned back on her elbows and crossed her legs by the ankles. She had taken off her jacket a while ago so she could take in the balanced temperature of the day, seeing as it had gotten warmer as the sun continues to fight its way through the clouds. She could smell a splash of the sweet vanilla scent of Rose's perfume and wondered when she had started to wear any. She figured Rose got it as a present from Ron for her one of her birthdays or holidays as it would seem to be the first present he'd think about getting when it comes to women. Hermione has her own collection of various scented perfume in her dresser because of him.

Hermione gnawed on her bottom lip, realizing how close she is to Rose after so many years of personal space, and if she tilted her head the right way she'd be able to lay her head on her shoulder if she wanted to. But she'd resist the urge to have any contact with Rose, knowing that it was a sensitive area for her and herself. Hermione took a deep breath, continued to inhale the soft perfume, and enjoying the feel of the calm air.

"What did you want to talk about?" Rose whispered. "What's so important to make you want to talk to me all of a sudden?"

"Sudden?" Hermione frowned. "It wasn't sudden, Rose. I always wanted to talk to you."

"Then why didn't you? You chose to do it now after I leave home," Rose retorted coolly.

"I thought you hated me and you being away made it worse," Hermione answered. "Every day I came home and I don't see or hear you around the house was a constant reminder that any chances I had to fix things with you was gone. You were already on your way growing up and I wasn't there to see it at all. It hurt a lot."

"You had a lot of chances to fix things but you didn't take it," Rose pointed out. "Me hating you isn't a good excuse."

"I know," Hermione sighed, closing her eyes. "But I felt hopeless. I didn't know what to do. And even if I did say 'hi', you wouldn't respond back or barely did. That's what made me think you hated me. I thought it was to the point you did not want to talk to me at all but yet here we are – talking."

"After six years," Rose added.

"Right."

"I didn't hate you – angry and upset, yes – but never hate," Rose said. "I could never hate you. You're my mum whether I like it or not. You're one of the reasons why I have food on the table – the clothes on my back – the toys I played with – the bed I sleep in. I can't hate you for giving me things that not many kids in the world do."

Hermione nodded silently, watching her with full attention. Rose leaned back on the ground, her red hair spread out like a fanned fire through the grass strands, her hands locked together on her stomach, and her ankles crossed like her mother. She had also taken off her robe to be able to use it as a blanket.

Rose exhaled sharply. "I was angry at you mostly. And a bit sad. I tried to use that to make me hate you like I should but it just made it worse because I couldn't."

Hermione hesitated but asked, "Can I ask…what did I do that made you feel that way? I know I've made mistakes because I married myself to my job but…is it more than that?"

"Yes," Rose replied.

"Can I ask what they are?"

"Does it matter?"

"More than you'll ever know."

Rose licked her lips. "Yes - I was angry and sad because you always put your job first and never came home but what bothered me more than ever is what happens when you're home."

"Okay."

"Before Hugo came – after I was born – and according to dad – you were always around. You would bring work home with you sometimes but you would take your time to nurture me – feed me – change me – play with me – and put me to sleep before you started working on whatever you brought home and I believe him because I remember when I was four we used to do everything together in the mornings and in the afternoons and then it just all…stopped. You weren't there as much for breakfast as you used to be and you weren't there to pick me up from Grandma Molly's with dad either. You were just gone. Hugo was already born by the time everything changed so I know he isn't the reason why."

Hermione nodded, silently telling her to continue.

"I used to wait up late until you came home – I would pretend so dad would sleep – but you never came home until in the morning and I would have fallen asleep by the time," explained Rose while playing with a grass strand she picked. "I didn't let it bother me at first, obviously, because I didn't know any better but then I noticed that you and dad always seemed angry or didn't like being in the same room together as you used to. I didn't understand until I heard you two having a row about you seeing someone being the reason why you're never home and that was stuck in my head even though I didn't believe it. Then I started to see how sad and depressed dad seemed – I started to believe it for a while because I thought what he said was true."

"That's when you started to pull away from me," Hermione whispered.

Rose nodded. "Yeah. But after some time, I just crushed the idea of you cheating on dad because I figured why would you try so hard convincing him that you weren't if it wasn't true. You're never one to put effort in a lie."

Suddenly, Hermione's mind went back to the night when her father was admitted into the hospital and her cheeks flushed as she thought about the events that occurred in that one particular evening – Harry finding her at the university – her telling him stories that her father told her – her later apparating them to her parent's old home – showing him the secretive room in the basement – them listening to the Cranberries – and then that drunken kiss she initiated on him. She had made sure to not allow herself to get lost in thoughts about the kiss but due to Rose's words, she found herself thinking back at it – at how Harry's lips felt against hers – and how she felt when kissing him. She coughed uncomfortably and shook her head.

"I couldn't stop being upset by you though," Rose kept on, not noticing her mother's inner turmoil. "I started to understand why dad fought with you so much and I didn't blame him but I blamed you for it. You were hurting dad because of you being constantly gone and never stop working even when you're home and slowly I started to get angry because you didn't seem to notice it. That's when I started to not care whether you were there or not – I spent most of my time distracting dad and making him feel better. I know most of the time it didn't work but it was better than nothing. I guess that's how I got so close to dad for now on."

Hermione lowered herself onto her back to be able to lay down next to Rose, feeling her elbows ache for being in the same position for so long, and a heavy weight of guilt fall on her chest as she thought about those many times when she would not be home at all and how much she and Ron would fight because of her staying overnight. She had known that her actions and words had affected Ron but for some reason neither of them had the strength to solve their problems like they used to whenever they have their fights. It was as if the energy between them to keep a firm hold to what they share had dissipated and the show of affections they exchange would only happen to the eyes of those outside of their marriage. It almost felt robotic in a way. As soon as they're among witnesses, they play the part of a perfect married couple still on a honeymoon phase but behind doors they were the alternate version of what they make people believe. Except it would seem less trying, almost as if it became too tiring for them to continue on. It scared Hermione.

"But then after Hugo's sixth birthday, you seem to be coming home a lot again," Rose said. "It brought me hope at first but then I started to notice that you would do the things you did with me to Hugo and that hurt me a lot more. Every day I saw you helping him with his homework because he was dyslexic – helping him study - clean the dishes with him after supper – help him dress up for bed – and reading bedtime stories. Then you'd be off doing the work you brought home. I thought that you preferred him over me at that time."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but then she closed it and continued to look up at the clouds. It was Rose's turn to speak and she would respect that, she thought. Rose deserves this.

"I was so angry because I wanted to know what I did to make you love Hugo more than me and why you acted more like a mother to him than you did with me but I let it go – I had dad so it wasn't so bad," Rose said roughly. "But then sometime around my ninth birthday, I started to noticed that you weren't home as you used to be again and, although I wasn't happy with you, I still worried that something might have happened to you. I went to your study to see if maybe you fell asleep in there and that's when I found Hugo sleeping by the stairs." Rose swallowed thickly. " _'Mum isn't home yet'_ he told me when I woke him up and I never knew I could be so angry at someone like I was with you. I took him to the common room and sang him to sleep. I knew he would have made a scene if I tried to take him back to his room so that's why I did that. And I don't know why but I stayed up all night, waiting for you to come home, and when you did I knew why. I wanted to give you a piece of my mind and I did."

"' _I hope you're happy making him wait for you and having me sing him to sleep. Don't make it a habit'_ ," Hermione blurted out softly. "I remember you telling me that."

"Yeah," Rose said. "After that everything went back to the way they used to be – you with Hugo – me with dad – and before you know it, I'm off to Hogwarts."

"Feels like it all happened yesterday," Hermione murmured. "I guess because the memories are still fresh."

"Yeah." Rose probed herself on her elbows, her wavy curls fluttering over her shoulders and back. "So that's my story. Now you know."

"Thanks for telling me, Rose," Hermione said as she sat upright and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging the closely. "I know it was hard…but thank you really. I needed to hear this."

"Why?"

"Because I needed to know. All this time I thought things were like this because of me and my job but I can see it was more. I'm a horrible mother in general. I hurt your father – your brother – and you."

"You really did."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "That's why I'm trying to make things right again. I don't want to live this way with my own family - It's horrible. I already feel like stranger breaking into her own house when I come home. That's not a healthy way of living."

"Can I ask you something?" Rose suddenly inquired.

"Of course," Hermione nodded.

"Why were you never home?" Rose asked. "And why didn't you stop working when you did come home?"

Hermione exhaled and finally turned to Rose with a determined look in her eyes. She needed to let her know her side of the story, to make her understand her reasons, and to allow herself to hear her own voice say her fears. She never told anybody of this one secret she had held inside for so long – not to Ron, not to Harry. But now she was willing to share it with the one person she had hurt the most because she deserved to hear it more than anybody in her life.

"Let me tell you something, Rose. Do you remember the story your father and I told you about? The one about the war? And what we all did afterwards?"

With confused eyes, Rose nodded. "Dad and Uncle Harry were in the Auror program – Aunt Ginny was back at Hogwarts with you on her final year and then signed up with the Holy Harpies – and then you went to fight for the equality of magical creatures – mostly for the house-elves."

"Exactly and you know how S.P.E.W managed to get me a job in the Ministry?"

"Yes."

"Well sometime after I started to work in the Ministry with your father and uncle, Ron proposed to me and a year later we got married. I was appointed as a counselor after our honeymoon and my career started to progress further like I hoped it would but then…I found out I was pregnant with you," Hermione said, chewing on her bottom lip.

"The worst day of your life, I assume," Rose grumbled.

"No – it was actually the scariest day of my life," Hermione corrected. "I was never so frightened like I was that day and it wasn't because it was you, Rose, it was because of me. I wasn't ready to be a mum."

"Why?"

"I was only twenty-five turning twenty-six when I was pregnant. I wasn't planning to have children until after I was thirty because I wanted to focus on my career in my twenties and not have to worry later on. Obviously abortion was not even an option – certainly. And I didn't let Ron know about my concerns because I saw how excited he was about the news and that made me even more scared. How is he able to be so overjoyed about the pregnancy when our careers are just starting is what I always thought. I wanted to be able to able to be excited like him but I just…couldn't. I was just…scared and I couldn't understand why. I was married and having a child with the man I loved – that's every girl's dream."

Rose had sat straight during Hermione's explanation and she was staring at her with actual interest that surprised Hermione to no end. She had not seen that look in her eyes for so many years.

"So many things were going through my mind. I was going to have a baby in nine months – I was going to be a mum – I would have to take a maternity leave after the birth – would they be able to handle the court cases without me – would the new changes in the laws stay intact during my leave – did Ron and I have enough money to have a baby – and all the sorts. It was overwhelming for me. I didn't know a thing about raising a child, let alone a baby. It was so terrifying for me that I could barely think straight anymore."

"Didn't you help raise Teddy at some point?" Rose asked.

"Only on visits," Hermione replied. "But that was different. I wasn't there when he cried at night or when he got sick or taught him how to be potty-trained or when he said his first word or take him to appointments and all the sorts – that was your Uncle Harry and Andromeda. I would just feed him milk, change his nappies, and play with him whenever he visits or I visit him. Those were the simpler things unlike the crucial ones Harry and Andromeda had to go through. Aside from that, I didn't know a lot about babies."

"So you weren't home because you weren't ready to be a mum?"

"No that's not why," Hermione shook her head. "Nine months passed and then on December nineteen I had my first child – a baby girl. All my fears and doubts suddenly vanished once I saw you."

Rose blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Hermione nodded.

"How come?"

"Because when I gave birth to you, I heard your first cry and I was so anxious to hold you already but they had to take you away to get you cleaned up and all that," Hermione explained. "Then when the Healers came back, I found myself holding this small little girl crying for her parents. All red faced and pudgy…I never seen anything so small and adorable at the same time. Then when you opened your eyes…I felt this…hold – no, more like urge to…protect you – cherish you – and help you grow. I wanted nothing more than to keep you safe and happy. I wanted you to live carefree – free from any troubles or worries like I did. But then the fear came back when I thought of that."

Rose did not speak; she nodded.

"I had you in the wrong time because I was in the middle of Death Trials and there were still many of those Death Eaters out there – some who I fought, others who went against your father and uncle. I was worried that the worst might happen and they'd come after us for revenge – that they'd take you away from me. I didn't want that. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my baby girl to some vengeful criminal just to torture me. I would rather die than have that if it meant keeping you safe," Hermione said. "Unfortunately I couldn't do anything right away because I was on a maternity leave. But at the same time I enjoyed it; I got to have you to myself in the meantime while Ron worked. Every day I got to feed you – change you – play with you – and watch you sleep. It was amazing knowing someone so small was half of me and it seemed too surreal. I remembered one night, when I was putting you to bed, you reached for me like you…wanted me and I wanted you too. So I took you to my room and laid you between me and the pillows. I didn't want to let you go – I just wanted you to myself. Then after I was able to come back to my job – "

"You worked hard to capture those Death Eaters and Snatchers," Rose finished, her eyes widening in understanding. "That's why you were hardly home or why you never stopped – you were working to keep me and Hugo protected."

"Yeah." Hermione nodded.

"But what about after Hugo's birthday? You started to come home often," Rose said. "What about that?"

"It was because of a row I had with Ron," Hermione said. "It was after we found out Hugo was dyslexic; Ron made me feel guilty that my work schedule would take in my time to help Hugo with homework and studying. Actually he made me feel guilty that I hadn't been around for you and Hugo that's why I started to bring my work home with me a lot. I tried to reconnect with you kids and I was able to with Hugo but with you – it was difficult. You were far too gone for me. I hadn't realized how far you were until that night when you told me off. I realized right there that even though I was doing a good job protecting you and keeping you safe from any danger, I did a horrible job being the most important thing you needed – being your mother. There's no way for me to show you how sorry I am for that and I would understand if you don't want to forgive me at all."

Rose sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Hermione watched her hopefully, lightly tapping her knees in anticipation. Then, deliberately slow, Rose shook her head whilst she stared ahead at the crystal lake.

"It's going to take a while for me to forgive you – six years is a long time," Rose said. "But…I really appreciate that you came all this way to talk to me."

"Of course," Hermione replied quickly. "I know it will be a while until we can be okay again but…can we at least try to get there?"

"We can," Rose nodded.

Then, for the first time since she had spoken to Rose, Hermione smiled a bright smile full of regained hope and lost happiness. The void that had been punched in her heart was not entirely filled but it was slowly clearing up and it did not throb in much pain as it usually did when it came to Rose. It shook with faith and her heart beats in elation.

"Thank you," Hermione said in relief then she felt goose bumps rise on her arms when she saw Rose actually form a small smile and her smile grew. "You have my smile," she pointed out.

Rose blinked. "What?"

"You have my smile," Hermione repeated. "I know because it's also my mum's smile."

Rose blushed brightly and looked away out of embarrassment, making Hermione laugh heartily. A light of golden yellow had managed to break through the wall of dark clouds and to pull apart, revealing the ocean of above that had been hidden the entire time. Looking at her daughter, Hermione can feel a weight lift from her chest as a few streaks glow over Rose like a halo and causing her hair shine in a pale pink shade, making her seem like a pagan goddess of beauty. Hermione could not believe that this young woman was that small fragile infant she held eleven years ago. How time had changed since then.

Hermione cleared her throat and rose up to her feet. "We should head back to Hagrid's and get Hugo. I promised Ron I'd head over to the Burrow after I was done with Agnes."

"Oh okay."

Hermione held out her hand and she tried to seem calm when Rose accepted it. She hauled her up to her feet, gathered her jacket and Rose's robe, and then they began to trudged away from the lake as they slipped them over their shoulders.

A moment later, Hermione and Rose settled in an easy rhythm of footwork through the grass, both engulfed in a quietness that was no longer awkward but assuring for the both of them, as if there was no reason for the distance between them to exist and the newfound realization was shockingly pleasant.

The bank of the lake was becoming vacant as the students started to descend up to the castle as well, needing to go to their next lesson or craving for a meal as lunchtime had scrolled around during their conversation. The walkway of stone leading up to the main campus grounds was seen covered with robe-clad people with Hermione being the only one standing out with her jacket.

"M-mum?" Rose suddenly said.

"Yes?" Hermione glanced at her daughter. "What is it?"

"You know how we all go to church and James, Albus, and I sing Christmas carols there?" Rose asked and Hermione nodded. "Well, I was planning to sing a song alone this year and it's going to be my first time performing ever…if…if you are there supporting me then…I'll forgive you. Because if you really want to be my mum again then you'll understand how important this is to me and be there."

Hermione stared at her as they continued to stride up the walkway. She can see Rose had her head down to have her face covered by a curtain of her hair and hide the sheepish look she had painted in her eyes. Then Hermione smiled gratefully and, with such hesitance, reached for Rose's hand with shaky fingers. Rose snapped her head up when she felt her hand caught in a trembling grasp.

"I'll be there," Hermione said firmly and truthfully.

Rose nodded for a moment before she turned forward to watch her footing as they continued to walk forward and trekked their way back to Hagrid's hut.

Neither of the two noticed that their hands were still locked together.

* * *

Eventually they made it back to Hagrid's hut, where they saw the boys were stand by the entrance watching a recently awaken Agnes getting familiar with a curious yet agitated Buckbeak, much to Hermione's horror, but Hagrid was quick to explain to her that Buckbeak was quite friendly with those in his species especially with newborns, and they all stayed sitting by the steps watching the two Hippogriffs while they talked together.

A few moments later, Hermione mentioned that Ron was waiting for her at the Burrow with the family and she needed to leave with Hugo right now, to the young man's displeasure. The group accompanied them back up to the main entrance of the castle where the carriage Hermione and Hugo came in was still there for them and Headmistress McGonagall was patiently waiting for them. They all exchanged their farewells in hugs and a few kisses on the cheek before Hermione and Hugo climbed into the carriage.

As the invisible Thestral started to trot its way towards the exit of the school campus, Hermione glanced through the back window to see Rose, along with the others, waving. A small smile stretched out on Hermione's face when Rose caught sight of her watching her and send a tentative wave to her direction.

Hermione's brief hand gesture seemed enough to make Rose smile widely and her eyes sparkle white under the blistering sunlight casting over her, but Hermione couldn't help wondering to herself; has their talk truly helped them fix at least a little and put together the pieces of their broken relationship like she hoped it would?

By the light shining in her eyes, Hermione knew that, just like she is with Ron, she was not entirely forgiven as Rose had told her earlier, but she had gotten a chance to be, and she was welcomed back into her daughter's life again after six years of no contact with her. And she was not going to ruin it again this time.

She cannot wait for Christmas to come to see Rose again and watch her sing.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	16. A Mother's Consideration

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters and locations used in it, or the songs mentioned.

First off...HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! HOPE YOU ALL MADE WONDERFUL MEMORIES ON THE LAST DAY OF 2015!

Second of all...I am deeply, truly, absolutely sorry for making the wait so long. When relatives come to town, you have no time for yourself. Again I apologize. I worked extra hard on this one mostly for you all and because this is my favorite chapter of the whole story. You'll see why.

A little head's up...someone's favorite character makes an appearance yet again. Your welcome to those who love them.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _We walked arm in arm_

 _But I didn't feel his touch_

 _The desire I'd first tried to hide,_

 _That tingling inside was gone_

 _And when he asked me:_

 _'do you still love me?'_

 _I had to look away_

 _I didn't want to tell him_

 _That my heart grows colder with each day_

\- What's A Girl To Do; Bat For Lashes

* * *

"It was real, wasn't it? You and me. Such a long time ago, we were just a couple of kids. But we really loved each other, didn't we?"

\- Allie; The Notebook

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: A Mother's Consideration**

Time at the Burrow was the same crazed and sound-filliing time as every visit Hermione can remember. As soon as she and Hugo arrived, they were engulfed by welcomed hugs and kisses before they all settled around the table for lunch and talk about their events during their jobs or their future plans but Hermione felt pressed on. She could not explain why but she felt she was being monitored with every movement she made, every word she spoke, and everything thought she thinks is being heard. She felt tense in the skin and her heart would beat erratically as the pressure kept weighing down on her shoulders.

She found out later when she was passing the plate of plougman's to Angelina that the feeling hanging onto was actually Ron's piercing eyes watching her intently. The air of the house was filled with the heavenly aroma of cheese, chutney, bread, cornichon pickles, apple beet salad, Branston pickle, and Scotch eggs. Ron watched her like an owl throughout the entire meal, his stare practically burning a hole through her head from across the table. She knew he was not furious with her for the trip to Hogwarts because he would not be looking at her, but she was note entirely certain what kind of gears of turning in his head. She had yet to tell him about her long-waited talk with Rose and she did not know how to explain it well to him or how he would react to the results. She knew he would want the answers right away and she figured perhaps he knew all about her discussion with Rose – he is probably waiting for her to tell him.

Mr. Weasley's boasting voice drifted Hermione's attention out of her mind at the sound; he was asking her about the topic they had been on for the past five minutes.

"So tell me again, Hermione," Arthur said enthusiastically as he scooped up some potato salad with a spoon and forced them on her plate. "What are those things called in those water pitches? How do they hold fishes in them?"

"They're called _aquariums_ ," Hermione forced herself to say, looking everywhere but Ron's direction. "They use _tanks_ to hold the fishes. They're like those cages Charlie uses for the dragons but they're made out of safety glass that can't be broken."

"Fascinating," Arthur said in awe. He turned to Molly. "Maybe we should go one day."

"Darling, we can't make plans to go to every place your Muggle-born employers mention," Molly retorted. "We already went to the New York – to Mt. Fiji – to Brazil – to Spain – to Washington – to California – and all sorts of places."

"Don't forget Montana," George whipped in before he took a bagel from a plate in the center. "What was the point of that one? There were mostly mountains – mountains – and more mountains!"

"It was considered a – what was it called? A hiker's state?" Arthur looked at Hermione who nodded before she took a sip of her water. "Exactly. It's where campers mostly go to explore nature." He turned to his wife again. "But those places were around the world. I'm sure this one doesn't require to travel."

"If there are fishes does that mean there'll be dolphins?" Lily asked. "I want to see them. They're so pretty and amazing. Especially when they jump out of the water."

"Dolphins are boring," Hugo countered. "Sharks are worth talking about. They made movies about them because they're awesome."

Ginny leaned over to Hermione and Ron, staring warily at Hugo as he continued to debate with Lily about which aquatic animal is superior to the other. Molly and Arthur were watching them amusingly while Angelina was muttering something only for George to hear, making him laugh shortly.

"Doesn't it concern you that Hugo always fantasizes about creatures that could kill him?" she asked them lowly.

"More than you know," Hermione mumbled.

Ron chuckled at her answer then draped an arm over the back of her chair. "No it's normal for a lad in his age to like dangerous things. Remember when I used to love manticores? Bloody terrible creatures those are. At least Hugo loves creatures that can be taken out with just a flick of a wand. Sharks are nothing compared to those."

"But you were reckless with magical creatures – big or small," Ginny said. "The first time you went de-gnoming you couldn't get the gnome to not chomp your hand off."

"I was eight when I started doing that," Ron hissed. "It's not exactly easy when you're a scrawny toddler."

"So you say," Ginny smirked.

"Let it go, Gin," Ron said. "I was a beginner."

"So what's the excuse when I started doing it?"

"You had help!"

"Help from what?" Ginny laughed. "Learning what not to do from watching you? You're right – you did help me on that. Thanks."

Ron groaned. "Are you in the mood to embarrass me today?"

"Yes," Ginny said smugly. "Looking at the kids bicker reminds me how much we used to and I haven't terrorized you in a long while."

"Don't forget I have dirt on you too," Ron shot back.

"Like what Aunt Muriel snogger?"

"Let that go!"

The room grew unbearably warm as Hermione slumped further down in her seat while watching Ron and Ginny go at each other with wondering eyes. She did not understand why but there was a tension in the room that she was sure she was the only was feeling and she could not find a problem for there to be one. She never felt like this with anyone here. This was her family – her home. But for some unfathomable reason, she felt out of place. Like she did not belong to be under Ron's arm among the crowd of people who had taken her in as one of their own and given her a roof over her head when she was doing research on how to reverse the memory charm she had placed on her parents years ago for protection.

 _What is wrong with me?_ Hermione thought angrily, flickering her eyes across the table. _First the whole confusion with Ron…now this? I must be going mental._

"Mum!" Lily said. "Can we go to an aquarium one day? Grandpa said we can if we find one. I want to see the dolphins."

"Mum, I want to see sharks!" Hugo added with equal vigor as Lily.

"Right now?" Ginny asked.

"No – not right now," Lily said. "Can we go next Friday?"

"I don't know any aquariums," Ginny replied honestly before turning to Hermione. "Do you?"

"I know this one in Brighton," Hermione answered easily with a shrug. "I've been there a couple of times with my grandparents."

"Does it have sharks?" Hugo asked the same time as Lily questioned, "Are there dolphins?" He had rose up from his chair ecstatically, his hands firmly pressed on the table, and hopping on the spot.

"Yes there are," Hermione chuckled. "I'm sure Nemo and Dory are there too."

"They're real?" Lily gasped in astonishment, her eyes growing wide. "I want to go now!"

"You just had to mention Nemo," Ginny quietly mumbled sarcastically to Hermione, who grinned at her sheepishly, already noticing the slip of her tongue. She knew how much Lily adored the small famous animated clownfish from the popular Pixar movie.

Hermione smiled, stifling a laugh, and went back to eating her plate of baggers and chips. Ginny looked at the two eager faces of her daughter and nephew, smiling lightly at the small hop in their feet, then sighed in mock defeat.

"Alright," she said. "We'll go next Friday."

Hugo and Lily jumped out of their sits, cheering so loudly that the pestering gnome hiding in the garden again can be heard complaining by their loud squeals and the ghoul in the attic followed along with their sound.

"But only if you eat your peas," Ginny added a minute later.

Lily and Hugo stopped hopping to stare at Ginny with betrayed, innocent eyes, and then let out simultaneous disgruntled groans as they slumped back in their seats with matching pouts.

"Even you got to admit, Ginny, that was very cruel," Angelina said.

Ginny smirked slyly. "Not everything in life can be handed free."

"Too true, little sister." George held up his bottle of butterbeer in agreement. "Too true."

Hugo held up a spoonful of green pea, staring at it in pure disgust as if he was becoming sick just by looking at the color and shape, and looked up at his parents with a pleasing expression.

"Mum? Dad? Do we really have to?" he asked with a whine in his voice.

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said without resistance.

Hugo glanced over at Ron.

"Don't look at me," Ron chuckled, holding a hand up in defense. "I got two witches here against me who know all hexes known to wizard. You're on your own on this one, mate."

Hugo gawked at his father in disbelief, shaking his head. Beside him, Lily was pushing around her vegetable around apathetically while grumbling, "Traitor."

Laughter circulating around the table at the children's despair as they shoveled their peas in their mouths grumpily. After that, lunch carried on as usual from that point. George obviously sensed the energy from the kids was deflated while they act their peas and he quickly jumped in to change the subject to telling embarrassing stories about the Weasley – something that Ron and Ginny would quickly take part of to be able to defense themselves in hopeless explanations in case their names popped up.

Throughout the meal, Hermione could still feel Ron watching her, even after lunch ended and they all helped clear the table. Plate by plate, utensil by utensil, he was watching her, studying her, examining her, almost as if she was actually a live test. She can feel him looking her way by the sink as she cleaned the dishes with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, making her somewhat tense in her grip on the sponge. She knew Ron was always aware of her in what she does or say but she never had him set eyes on her like a hawk and feel like a targeted pray before – it was uncomfortable to say the least. She felt relief when she heard him, the kids, George, Arthur, and Angelina sprint out to the yard to play a quick game of Quidditch and she was able to unwind her muscles that had been stiff through the whole time.

At the mentioning of the loved sport brought Ginny to talk to Molly about her current interview with Nathan Spinks, a Chaser for the Chudley Cannons, about the dreadful death of former Seeker, Galvin Gudgeon, and Hermione instantly tuned out of the conversation. Talking about the death of an innocent man would remind her of the many people who were vicious and reckless towards Harry's decision in hiding the story for professional purposes which would lead her to missing her best friend then later thinking about him and soon end up remembering the kiss she tried to make unforgettable. She did not need to be thinking about that. She promised herself and to Harry on her birthday that she wouldn't.

Hermione glanced out the window to see the many figures zoom across the field in the air, chasing, blocking, and scoring on their brooms. For the safety of the children, they used beginner bludgers that were made out of a soft material that Hermione once confused to be clothing fabric. Shouts for openings were heard, impressive passings were exchanged between players, cheers expressed by a score, groans of disappointment for a lost block, and laughter of joy was surfaced. They were all having fun together like Hermione loved to see. She wished the other kids who are missed were here to enjoy the time as well like old times.

Hermione watched as George has intercepted a pass from Angelina to Lily and was streaking his way towards the goal Ron was Keeper of but then Hugo had managed to steal the quaffle from his grasp with an impressive tactic of him flipping around his broom. Ever since Harry and Ron had mentioned their time in the Quidditch team back in Hogwarts, Hugo had involved himself with the sport as much as possible to be ready when he attended the school and tried out for the team because he wanted to be like his father and Uncle. Along with watching professional leagues with them and being constantly explained the rules, he had become knowledgeable.

Lily had inherited her parent's Quidditch as expected after seeing Albus and James play the first few times. She was no better than Hugo but not inferior in skills either. She had her own moves and incredible plans on the field that shocked adults for someone in her age to be able to come up with. But not Harry; he actually predicted one of his kids or all were to be able to diverse a new maneuver some day because he learned from experience that kids at a young age are quite creative than most older Quidditch players in the league. It was insightful of him to see such potential in not just Lily but in James and Albus in the sport.

Hermione was thinking of the time when Harry was showing the kids the Wronski Feint and how she scolded him for showing such a dangerous trick ("Harry James Potter! Are you completely mental? If one strand of my son's hair falls off from that Wonky-fent thing, I will have your head!") as she held a plate under the steamy stream of the faucet, wiping off the leftovers down the garbage disposal. It was a hilarious day for everyone but her and she still found no amusement to this day – she was very worried that Hugo was going to get hurt. She handed the plate to Ginny for her to dry when Molly decided to go outside and watch the others play.

"Hey Gin," she said. "Did you know Lockhart was teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, I read it from one of Al's letters," Ginny replied as she dried the plate.

"How'd that happen?" asked Hermione.

Ginny stared at her incredulously. "You don't know? The applications for DADA were really short. Aurors couldn't stand in at the time because they were busy rebuilding the damage from the war and taking care of the injured. Others didn't want to because the position had "bad luck". The school was actually going to shut down the class when Lockhart finally got out of St. Mungo's and did this huge announcement to the press that he was going to go back to Hogwarts to take back his position as professor. What a coincidence that he did that after he published his new book; _My Journey back to Consciousness_."

"So it was all for publicity," Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I wonder why I was even a fan of his before. I feel embarrassed."

"Girls are hormonally daft at that age," Ginny said. "Pray and hope for the best for this generation."

Hermione nodded. "Amen."

Ginny opened the upper cabinets and held up the plate for it to levitate into place. She turned to Hermione as she drenched the utensils in steamy water and foamy soap.

"Why'd you ask though?" she asked as she reached for her butterbeer and took a long sip.

"I just learned today," Hermione murmured and then, after a second of consideration, later added, "I talked to Rose today."

Ginny's reaction was too comical to Hermione that she could not stop herself from laughing; she had choked on the butterbeer and the liquid spilled onto the floor from her mouth and nose, her eyes full of tears as she tried to regain her breath. Hermione had to pat her on the back to help her breathe again and hold her to balance her on her feet.

"Better?" Hermione asked.

"You talked to Rose?" Ginny repeated in astonishment.

Hermione nodded.

She was actually not surprised that Ginny would act so dubiously. She would assume that Ron must have talked to Ginny sometime during the years or during their worst month period to blow off some steam and told her all about their family struggles. Ginny never showed that she knew about her and Rose but Hermione figured Ron told her to not mention it for the sake of saving him and her with future arguments. She would have agreed. A part of her wondered for a moment why he never went to Harry in the first place to talk about their problems like he did a month ago but then she concluded that he needed someone who was on his side because from the many years she knew Harry, she learned he had grown into neutral person when it came to her and Ron fighting. He probably did not want to go through the same routine he went in Hogwarts; third year he sided with Ron, fourth year she sided with Harry, six year he sided with both Ron and her during the relationship-triangle fiasco, and in seventh year she sided with Harry during the Horcrux hunt. It can be tiring.

"What happened?" Ginny asked hurriedly. "Is everything okay now? Does Ron know?"

"Ron doesn't know yet," Hermione answered truthfully, a smile breaking out. "I can't really say we're _okay_ okay but we got a lot of stuff out – mostly Rose. I guess you can say we're on our way to being okay again."

Ginny beamed. "That's great, Hermione!" She pulled the brunette in her arms and embraced her tightly. "About time too."

Hermione was glad that Ginny could not see her face when she said that because her smile faltered. It was about time. She wished she could have done it earlier. But she did not let it be known and returned the hug to not raise any suspicion. Then Ginny pulled back, the grin never showing any signs of falling.

"How does it feel?" she asked.

"Not bad," Hermione said absently. She never took time to focus what she felt of the whole talk with her daughter and as she did for the quick second, she could not really identify what it is that she was feeling. It was not sad but it was not happy either. She was stuck in-between the two. She was sad because she did not get the full forgiveness from Rose that she had wished to get but she knew it was not going to be easy after the hurt she scarred on the young girl. Yet she was happy because she was given a chance to earn the forgiveness that she desperately needed from Rose. It was a thin line between what is good and bad of the conclusion.

Ginny seemed bewildered. " _'Not bad'_? I expected more than that."

Hermione sighed almost inaudibly as she focused her eyes on the streaking forms in the sky through the window, all of them still lost in the uplifting atmosphere of the small match, neither paying an ounce of attention to her or Ginny in the house.

"Uh oh, it's never a good sign when you sigh like that," Ginny said. "Shouldn't you be happy you got to finally talk to your daughter?"

"Don't get me wrong, I am happy I finally got to hear from her side of the story and explain to her about my side as well," Hermione quickly retorted. "I just feel so…strange. I know it will take a while for us to get used to each other again but I just feel awful how foreign it feels. I should be over the hills by now that she at least called me mum but it was just – "

"Odd?" Ginny guessed, and Hermione nodded. "What do you expect? You haven't had her in your life for nearly a decade. It won't go back to the way things were with just a snap. Not even magic can do that."

"All this coming from a witch," Hermione smirked.

Ginny waved her hand. "The effects of befriending a Muggle-born. You learn things you didn't think possible."

Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes. She went back to rinsing the remaining dishes in the sink.

"So what else happened?" Ginny inquired.

"She gave me a chance to be in her life again," Hermione explained. "You remember how we all go to church to watch the kids sing carols? Well she is planning to sing solo this year," she added.

Ginny was surprised. "Wow, that's brave. Why does she want to go solo?"

"I don't know I didn't ask," Hermione said. "My guess is that small phrase kids go to – doing something alone to prove to adults they're grown. Whatever reason she is doing it, she wants me to be there because it's her first performance and if I go then she'll forgive me."

"I thought she already forgave you," Ginny raised an eyebrow.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I said we got a lot of stuff out but she never forgave me – _yet_. But this Christmas is my one chance to make things right again and I can't wait. She does have a lovely voice, that one. I think she got it from my great-grandmother – she always loved to sing before she passed. I'm glad she got those genes in her."

"And here I thought all she got was Ron's genes," Ginny snorted. "Seriously, he's everywhere on her on the outside. I honestly thought she was going to inherit your hair at least."

"Fortunately yes," Hermione retorted. "Have you seen my hair when I was a child? It was hardly tamable. I don't need to pass that struggle to my children."

The two witches laughed freely at her comment, their sounds bouncing off the walls and echoing back to them. Shared memories of Hermione's frazzled and uncontrolled hair seemed infectious to them now because it would make Ginny remember her days as an odd tween before the two of them developed into womanhood. They could not believe how they used to look when they passed that awkward stage in their life.

Ginny then placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and smiled as she said, "I'm glad everything is looking up for you, Herms. Make sure not to ruin it this time."

"That's the last thing I want to do," Hermione said then she frowned and glared at her sister-in-law. "And don't call me _'Herms'_ – it sounds close to hermit."

Ginny grinned slyly. " _Herms_ ," she repeated deviously with a mischievous glint in her bright brown eyes. It was something Hermione had not seen in a while.

"Call me that one more time, Ginerva."

"What you gonna do about it, _Herms_?"

Hermione cupped her hands then scooped up a puddle of water mixed with liquid soap and flicked the substance towards Ginny's face, causing the redhead to gasp in shock yet amused. Hermione grinned in triumph as she eyed the wet spots soaked in Ginny's peach blouse, noticing that the outline of her bra was visible through the drenched cloth.

"I warned you," Hermione teased.

Ginny pulled out her wand with the glint in her eyes glimmering dangerously now and she formed a sinister grin that made Hermione tremble in anticipation to what she knew would come. She took a few steps back from her as she brought out her own wand and pointed it directly at her. But she was surprised when she saw Ginny swish her wand towards then sink and then she shrieked in surprise when a splash of the soapy water crashed onto her, soaking her from head to toe. She blinked the water out of her eyes and stared at a smirking Ginny.

"You're going down," Hermione said.

"Try me."

Thirty minutes later, the others had finished their first match of Quidditch and had entered the house for a water break in the kitchen where they were greeted with the sight of water dripping from the walls, the counter, the cabinets, and the ceiling, and a pair of giggling Hermione Weasley and Ginny Potter who were attempting to dry themselves from their water war with spells. But one would cause another blob of water to hit the other and they would resume on their game, unable to start cleaning up the liquid coating everything surrounding them.

Molly was mortified by the mess in her kitchen – Arthur was trying his best to keep her calm – George was absolutely proud of their handy work – Angelina was astonished to see how many inches of the room they would able to hit they did not seem possible – Ron was actually secretly shocked yet pleased to see the two women in his life acting like a bunch of children at such an age – and as for Lily and Hugo; they could not resist joining in the opportunity of causing a mess without getting in trouble with their mothers.

Hermione could not stop grinning and laughing through the whole time. Yet she was still shedding the small secret of discomfort she felt minutes ago and she still felt out of picture even though she was very well part of it. Still she felt many miles away from the people standing with her in the room and she could not seem to understand why.

* * *

As soon as their time at the Burrow had ended, and Ginny reminding them that the ball was tomorrow ("It starts at seven and it's a formal gathering. So you better be presentable Ron – Hermione please make sure he is.") Ron and Hugo apparated back home but Hermione had chosen to go to St. Thomas to visit his father. She did not want to bring Hugo with her this time because she can see he was having a terrific day from seeing his sister, his cousins, and from spending the day with his adored family, and she was glad to see Ron had agreed with her on her reasons. But she mostly needed to be alone during her visit with her father; the time she spent cleaning the kitchen with Ginny and the kids made her think about the time she and her father had caused a mess in the kitchen when she was ten. They were both not very good cooks unlike her mother, even if they did follow the exact instructions of the recipe, and the place would end up in a sticky catastrophe yet Hermione loved it because it was with her father.

Hermione never liked hospitals in the Muggle world. There was always an air of sadness and distraught in every corner, there was also woeful screams of people getting a shot or expecting mothers during labor, and then there are the serious employers lurking in the hall with health charts and the receptionists who seem so serious. She preferred St. Mungo's mostly because although there are injuries that are painful to deal with and some disastrous but the magic of the Mediwizards healing the harmed brought an atmosphere of peace and hope. Also she still held the memory of her mother arranging an appointment for her to get a shot and Hermione had suffered the punctuation of a syringe needle.

She remembered that her parents had to comfort her from her first shot and failing miserably. Then her father began to do comical faces and noises that left Hermione heaving through laughter. He kept her in a bright mood through the whole day and making her forget about it the next. Unfortunately the next day she had to arrive for her dental appointment.

Her father was still stuck in a long torturous sleep, as usual, when Hermione entered the room and she went to sit on the empty chair by the side of his bed. She looked at his face – his hair tussled and wild around his paled face, his hospital gown unbuttoned at the front to put a set of wires taped across his torso, an air mask clasped around his mouth, and several needles stuck to his arms. There was a machine on the other side of the bed, the source of many wires.

Could a dead heart break? Hermione knows her did.

"Hey dad," she whispered as she leaned forward to take his cold-skinned calloused hand in hers. "It's me, Hermione, obviously."

He remained still, unresponsive to her voice.

"Today has been new," Hermione paused. "Actually, it's been right unusual. I took Hugo with me to S.P.E.W because he wanted to see the Hippogriff I was taking care of and it ended up with me literally getting stabbed in the back – don't worry though, it's nothing serious, I'm healed. Anyway, we went to Hogwarts today and we met up with the kids and Hagrid there – he was really happy to have a companion for Buckbeak. Then I finally talked to Rose," she coughed and then inhaled sharply. "She did most of the talking really but she got a lot out from what she's been feeling for the past six years and I think we're going to be okay again. I just hope I don't mess up this time."

Hermione did her best to keep the tears build up in her eyes from tumbling onto her face and blinked her eyes rapidly to wipe them away. Her thumb rubs over the back of his hand, gliding it over the boney mountains that are his pale knuckles.

"I really miss you, dad," she admitted sincerely, honest. "I really do hope that you get better soon. Nothing has been the same without you – mum isn't the same – the kids miss you terribly – everybody does really."

It pained Hermione to not see any signs of reaction from him.

She swallowed hard. "I really wish you'd wake up now – I really, really miss hearing you sharing embarrassing stories of me to the kids and showing them magic tricks and making them think you're a wizard. I miss everything about you, mostly listening to old songs with you. I guess that's why the ouse is so…dead. I haven't played your music in a while."

Hermione exhaled shakily while leaning against her knees, her thumb continuing to rub his hand tenderly as she hung her head low. She didn't know what to say next, she just kept silent whilst the machine hummed and the heart monitor beeped in a soothing rhythm.

"You…you have to wake up." Her voice sounded croaked, broken, as she spoke and she knew she was at her breaking point. "I'm so scared. I'm afraid of you never waking up again and they'll have to pull the plug. It isn't fair…I don't think I can handle it." She sniffled but never raised her head. "Please wake up, dad – for me."

Once again, there is no answer from him. But then Hermione heard the door behind her click open and she peered over her shoulder; the familiar dark curls pulled up into a slightly loose ponytail and emerald green eyes were the first two things she noticed. She was wearing her uniform from her job.

"Hey mum," Hermione murmured.

Carol sighed, "Hi dear, how long you have been here?"

"A few minutes," Hermione answered as her mother approached her at the bed and lightly placed her hands on her shoulder, gently rubbing them. Hermione reached a hand to place it over one of her mother's. "I didn't know you were coming today," she said.

"It's been a slow day," said Carol then she sighed again as she gazed down at her husband with solemn eyes. "I've been here for an hour or two. I just finished talking to the doctor about your father."

Hermione's ears perked. "What did he say?"

"No change."

"Oh."

"Oh darling," Carol breathed, leaning down to wrap her arm around Hermione's shoulders and reached a hand to her daughter's face to wipe the lingering tears she spotted on her cheeks.

"I want him back, mum," Hermione whimpered while leaning into her mother's embrace. "Why is this happening to him?"

"I don't know," Carol replied weakly and Hermione was disappointed in the answer; she was hoping to get a more positive one that would bring her any piece of lost hope she is reaching out for.

"I don't want to lose him," Hermione retorted.

"Me neither," Carol shook her head. "I just want to know how this happened. He was okay one minute and the next he just – I don't understand."

"Do you think it's possible he ate something he's allergic to?" Hermione guessed. "There wasn't shrimp in the take-out we had that did, was there?"

"No honey, I had one ordered specifically with no shrimp," Carol said.

"But they could have made a mistake," Hermione pointed out. "Maybe there was one and we didn't see it. What if all this time he's struggling with allergy? Or what if-"

"Hermione – Hermione, sweetheart – you're rambling," Carol said worriedly. She held her by the shoulders and shook her lightly to bring some sense back into her daughter. "Darling, if your father ate shrimp then the doctors would have found it a long time ago. Also, remember, he had a stroke and has a nasty fall. That's why he's in a coma."

Hermione blinked and then sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry, I just-"

"I know, love. I know."

"I guess I was just making excuses in hopes it would be true. I hate seeing him like this."

Carol stroked Hermione's hair comfortingly. "I know. I do the same sometimes too. But believe me, it's better to accept the reality of things or you'll be left disappointed. It's a lot worst."

Hermione frowned and nodded. Just then, she noticed a mixture of blue and yellow on the nightstand nearby the IV bag and Hermione stared at the beautiful sight; there were two vases containing two different colored flowers. The left held blue iris and the right has yellow daffodils. She had brought in the daffodils the day after her father was admitted in the hospital as a reassurance of every day for herself that he was going to be awake and in good health again. She remembered Angelina had learned the meaning of flowers and had told her that daffodil meant rebirth and eternal life – Hermione picked it because it brought her hope.

But the blue iris, she did not know what it truly described for. She never really had learned about the specific flower. She turned to her mother, who was sadly gazing down at her husband.

"Mum, do you know what the blue iris mean?" Hermione asked.

Carol glanced over at the direction her daughter and mused, "It means a lot of things. It means hope, wisdom, and faith. Funny thing is that I don't remember seeing them there until you pointed them out."

Hermione rose and walked to the flowers. She tentatively touched the petals with her fingers and she noticed that they felt hardened, almost deprived of water and sunlight, as they are slightly wrinkled and withered. She pulled out her wand and did a flick towards the flowers as she recited, " _Sanari Potero!_ " then the decaying flowers soon bloomed back into full health, their colors visible and solid as well as the deteriorating scents turned heavenly addictive again.

"Do you know who sent that?" Carol asked.

Hermione first thought that perhaps it had been Ron who left the flowers but she figured that he perhaps would leave a basic bouquet of roses and a _Get Well_ card with it. Then she thought about Ginny but Hermione knew she wasn't the kind to leave flowers for a person – aside from the day of Fred's funeral – but she would mostly be the one lending a hand of comfort and a few words of reassurance. Molly and Arthur would have brought magical gifts instead. George would have thought to bring a product from his shop that means supportive. The kids would have brought their toys for her father to borrow. Angelina would have probably brought them because she knew flower meanings from her mother but then Hermione's mind drifted to her best friend.

Hermione could not explain but she had a feeling in her gut that felt certain that Harry had been the one who sent the flowers. As far as she knew, he would always send in orchids instead but this sort of type of flower seemed suitable coming from him. He had been the most supportive to her throughout her struggles since the Rowle case started, giving her a shoulder to cry on, words of encouragement, and also practically scolded her to get back on track. He had been holding her hand through her roller coaster with her father and her problems with Ron and the family, gripping it tighter as it became harder. He never left her side, not even when that kiss of theirs almost caused them to part out of awkwardness. He was just there.

Hermione was gazing at the flowers fondly and raised one hand to her collarbone where she felt the otter charm resting on, lightly touching it with her finger. She never spent a day without it on ever since Harry had given it to her; she felt a sense of security and faith whenever she wore it and she knew it had to be because it was from Harry. He gave her those warm feelings of all the goodness being possible even when everything seemed bleak and highly unlikely. She could not explain how but she knew it had nothing to do with him being an Auror or being the most powerful wizard of the decade or because he was her longest best friend. He just had this natural vibe of making everything good. Of making her feel good in what she does, she says, or she thinks about as ridiculous and annoying he may find them. Another trade he was born with.

"Yeah, I know who," Hermione finally spoke. She turned to face her mother. "Mum, what are you doing afterwards?"

Carol seemed mindful. "I was planning to spend the time at Janet's house for some tea. Why?"

"How about you come over for supper?" Hermione suggested. "I actually need to talk to you about something. Private. It's sort of confusing."

"Talk about what?"

Hermione gnawed on her bottom lip. "It's complicated."

Carol stared at her silently, her eyes scrutinizing, and Hermione felt pressed on under the weight of her mother's eyes. The one thing she did not like about herself was that she makes herself an easily opened book mostly to her mother; whichever emotion she felt or what thoughts are troubling her can be detected by Carol effortlessly. She wondered if her mother could see her distress through her eyes because she seemed understanding and had nodded.

"Alright then. What's for supper?" Carol said.

Hermione sighed in relief. "I don't know. Ron is cooking today. Probably some bangers and mash or rice and steak."

"Oh, I hope he makes those steaks of his," Carol retorted. "The way he grills them are just delicious! Please tell me we won't travel your way – I always feel a bit peaky from those. We'll take me car."

Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Let me give Janet a bell," Carol said. "She was supposed to go to Liverpool today to visit her brother. I hope it's not too late for her to go now."

Hermione nodded as her mother turned and left the room, probably going to ask the receptionist for the phone; she never liked using the advanced technology such as iPhones. Hermione looked back at her father and frowned at the colorless face, taking in the damage. She gingerly brushed his hair away from his face and leaned down to give him a light chaste kiss on the forehead. His skin was cold like an iceberg that it stung her lips like a fiery spark being lit and it made her shudder violently. When she pulled back a bit, her lips brushed over his pale skin as she quietly whispered to him, "Get better soon, daddy. I love you."

Then Hermione straightened herself, turned away from him, and left the room without another glance back at her father because she knew if she looked at him once more then she would break on the spot. As she walked down the corridor to where her mother would be, a trail of dropped tears were left behind, each droplet a piece of her heart slowly bleeding out of her and left for her father to find if he ever awakes.

* * *

When they reached the Weasley home, the two Granger women were greeted by an impatient Hugo playing video games in the common room and gratefully pausing it to welcome them back into the household and the sight of a busied Ron in the kitchen, skillfully tossing stir-fry contents, and wearing an apron.

They all spoke enthusiastically about their daily events and enjoyed their served meals when dinner was ready. They learned that Carol had started a book club with some of her friends at her job and they were currently discussing Walden – Ron was able to sell thirty percent more of his products thanks to George's idea to add advertisement of their shop – Carol learned about Hermione's recent task about Agnes and her trip to Hogwarts, leaving out the part when she got harmed and her talk with Rose as she didn't want Ron to find out that way – and Hugo was basically scarfing down his plate and gulping down his glass of grape juice.

Fifteen minutes in, Hugo had taken over the conversations with stories of that occurred in the school yard and petty faults among other classmates in the classroom. Then Ron switched it into talking about the upcoming Quidditch match and how there are eighteen more left until the championship and how he is planning with Ginny to get the tickets. Later on, Carol reeled herself into the talk about how she never truly understood the sport so well, resulting in Ron explaining it pleasantly while Hugo spoke about the stories he held about the sport. Hermione sat listening to the conversation, trying to ignore the strange churning in her stomach that she was certain had nothing to do with the stir-fry.

It was Hermione's turn to clear up the table and clean the dishes that evening. Carol had politely volunteered to help and Hermione did not resist because she saw it as an opportunity to speak to her in private. Hermione gathered all the plates into a pile with the utensils inside the bowls then she glanced through the door leading to the living room; Ron was sitting on the rug with Hugo in front of the television, trying to learn how to play with the controller but would end up getting racer falling off track. They switched to sharing each side of the controller. Hermione smiled at the scene before she carried the dishes into the kitchen where her mother was currently scrubbing a glass in hot water.

"So mum," Hermione started as she dried the recently washed plates. "About what I told you at the hospital – "

"I was wondering when you were going to mention that," Carol said. "What is it you wanted to talk about, dear?"

"Well," Hermione hesitated, staring down at the plate in her hand. "I was wondering…you and dad have been married for a _long_ time…has there ever been a time when you questioned your marriage?"

Carol paused on scrubbing and looked at her daughter strangely. "Is everything okay with you and Ronald?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "We hit a bit sort of an obstacle last month and it's nothing new really. It has something to do with the jobs and my job and it's been going on for years but last month was just…brutal. We fight but never like this time. We're okay now but…I don't know. Everything just feels different."

Carol sighed with a frown. "You're doubting whether you still love Ron?"

"I think so," Hermione murmured, uncertain.

She felt awful; she never felt so unsure of anything in her life. For years she had been confident that her love for Ron had been everlasting through the many scares, jealous moments, his impressive moments of surprising her, and the calming atmosphere during the times they had to themselves in Hogwarts. Also the way how they changed after they confirmed their romantic relationship, made her hopes to be with Ron to be stable. They had surpassed the obstacle on what their clashed personalities was thrown at them, showed people that they are able to be strong, and they are able to be where they are.

But now, everything is seemed like a blur and puzzled. It frustrated her to no end. She could not really explain what was wrong with her. A month ago she wanted nothing more than to have everything straight with Ron and to have their marriage settled normally again but now that she has everything slowly going back to track with him, she just felt numb. Could it be that she no longer loved Ron because they were no longer fighting? She found that to be a ludicrous point for her to become unsure of her feelings for Ron. They have been fighting for ages and after they fixed the cause of their discussions, she never felt like this. It was part of their lives and she had grown up with it. She was just lost.

Carol noticed the tormented look on her daughter's face and sighed as she placed the current plate she was working on in the sink then reached for a paper towel to dry her hands.

"Honey, everybody goes through a moment in their life when they're thinking about their significant other and some still see them the same way they would see them thirty to forty years ago and others began to see that they are not compatible anymore," Carol said.

"But what makes a person think they're not compatible anymore?" Hermione questioned. "They don't just wake up and suddenly not love that person anymore right? That's not logical."

"You're right, they don't," Carol nodded. "There are a lot of reasons that could make a marriage questionable. The main one could be due to financial aids; those are the hardest – the second could be lack of communication; those end up in fights if you say the wrong things when you try to talk again – there's also mediocrity too; sometimes it's better to be surprised or creative to keep the marriage alive and fresh like it's still new – and the most important thing in any relationship is intimacy; lack of sex means lack of passion and that's what usually brings out the spark between you two. When is the last time you and Ron-"

"Mum, I am not going to talk about my sex life with my husband with you. That's just uncomfortable," Hermione grimaced, shuddering lightly.

Carol chuckled, rolling her eyes.

Hermione inhaled deeply as she leaned against the edge of the counter, folding her arms over her stomach, thinking over the many causes of complexity for her fights with Ron. She knew they held nothing against each other when it came to financial problems because they are both well in that category as they both work in jobs that enrich them gradually. She was not sure if their communication had shriveled up because they do speak their concerns and dislikes towards the other's choice of action but they were spoken in such angry ways; she knew that was not healthy no matter how normal it is for her and Ron to argue. She could not remember a time they would talk about their situations calmly and civilized. She will admit that her marriage with Ron did not seem spectacular as it was from the beginning because the last time they had gone on a date night was when Rose was two years old and Molly or Arthur were well enough to take care of her. But after that, they seem to not find the urge to go out together anymore or they did not have the time to plan a date together. The passion had begun to die as time passed. And as for the intimacy between them, their last moment of ecstasy was a month ago but it seemed like a distant memory from many years ago because of everything that had occurred at once.

Hermione will accept that not everything between them felt the same anymore but the way they acted are as they used to be.

"Ron is still the same," said an astuted Hermione. "He hasn't changed. He's still the same man I fell in love with, mum. So…why aren't I feeling anything towards him?"

"Maybe he stayed the same," Carol responded casually. She went back to the plate she was scrubbing, finished it, and handed to her daughter before went to a glass. "But maybe you're not the same person anymore."

Subconsciously drying the plate, Hermione knitted her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Carol frowned. "Honey, you may not noticed how you act now but I do. I know my daughter inside and out. And I remember how you used to act towards Ron when you first started – you were bright, enthusiastic, and anxious for more. And I'm not going to lie, I owe it to Ron for bringing out the kid in you and having you take life one at a time – I love that boy for that. And I honestly did see you two making it far like you did now but then you got married at such a young age and then you had a baby – oh, I feared the worst for you. I truly did. And then you changed; you were always tired, always somewhat grumpy, and always stressed about work, bills, the kids, and Ron. I know it's common in all marriages – your father and I went through that. But it seemed so much harder for you to the point I thought you were depressed. You weren't like the little girl I raised you to be and it had nothing to do with age."

"So you think we rushed," Hermione murmured. It was not a question.

"Yes," Carol confirmed. "I mean yes, you two were together for eight years when you got engaged but I felt you should have waited until you reached your late twenties. I know people have their own right to make their decisions but I just – it didn't feel right to me. It just didn't sound like _you_. But it wasn't my right to tell you when to marry the man you love. The wedding was wonderful and I got my first grandchild later on so I can't say it was bad. But I was so concern for you."

"Okay, I understand because of how I handle my posture made me seem different," Hermione nodded whilst biting her lip, the gears in her head turning to process her mother's words. "Maybe I have changed a lot since then but you didn't approve of our marriage because of the timing. Can you explain that?"

Carol did not answer immediately as she struggled to wipe away a particularly tough stain in the glass she was on. Hermione considered for a moment to whip out her wand and simply clean the dishes with a swish but then they would not have a reason to get their time consumed by.

"When you found me and your father in Australia, restored our memories of you, and then explained to us the reason why and told us the whole story since your first year, I was relieved," Carol began. "Of course the main reason is because you were alive but also because I thought you will be able to finally act your age – like a teenager. But then you told me you got together with Ron and I knew you wouldn't have the chance to experience that."

"Mum, I've had time," Hermione pointed out. "Ron and I didn't make it official until a few months after the war ended."

"And during those months, what have you been doing?" Carol inquired. Hermione didn't answer right away. "You were busy researching how to reverse the spell you used on me and your father. So you didn't really take the time to enjoy the last of your youth before you committed yourself to Ron," she concluded. "You're too ahead of your age. Right now you're thirty-eight but you act like you're in your sixties."

"I get what you mean," Hermione said. She ran a hand through her hair. "Perhaps because of the time Ron and I took…I guess we didn't really decide to take the time and settle in the new life as individuals because all we really wanted was to be with each other instead of just living in the moment. We grew up together and spent most of our lives together…it was all so quick now that you mention it…and it seems like the magic is slowly dying – no pun intended. But just because I feel like this…it doesn't mean Ron feels the same."

Carol pursed her lips. "That's the hard part."

"But mum…" Hermione hesitated, her face suddenly scrunched up into a worrisome look. "I'm trying hard to get things right with my family now. I just came back from talking to Rose and I've been given a chance to be her mother again. Sometime during last month I almost lost Hugo. This – this uncertainty I'm feeling can't be happening now. Not when I'm trying hard to get things back the way they were."

Hermione started to hyperventilate as the many possibilities of changes that could transpire from her not being in love with Ron anymore. Not being in love with the spouse of her children would mean that they would have to get a divorce then they would have to go through the papers that say what they will claim and then there is the fight for custody of their children whether it is one or both. She could not go through all that, not when everything she worked for with Ron to fall apart, or to be the hated parent who caused the separation of the family, and not being able to have the chance to be a good mother.

Hermione began to breathe erratically and heaving out ragged sobs. She found herself engulfed in her mother's comforting embrace, quietly hushing her, gently stroking her trembling back and caressing her hair to soothe her. Carol rocked her to the sides as she whispered in Hermione's ear that she loved her, that she will forever support her through all her struggles, that her father will also be there, and that she will be able to figure it out like she always does because she is her bright little girl no matter what. That she is sure that whichever choice she comes with that Ron will be in her life any way because they have been best friends first longer than they have been as a couple. Hermione nodded silently at her assuring words.

After a few minutes, Hermione's sobs died down into slight hiccups and a few sniffles, then her mother drew back and held her moist face in her hands, wiping away the tears with her thumbs.

"Okay dear?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded in her mother's hands, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes from the remaining tears. "God, I've been crying a lot lately. I'm going to have a huge headache tonight."

Carol smiled lightly. "It's better to cry now than not at all. Stress and raging emotions can be too much if you hold it in. But don't overthink about this so much too – that's an even worse headache."

Hermione laughed with a small smile as she reached for her mother's hands from her face and held them. The time passed in silence for a few more minutes as Hermione started to even her breathing, feeling quite ashamed to be easily loose of her emotions for her problems while she held her mother's hands. When Hermione finally got her composure in check, she cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I'm glad you're here, mum," she said truthfully with an honest smile.

Carol returned her smile. "Me too, sweetheart. Now how about we finish these dishes? Hugo said he wants to teach me how to play his video games."

Just then, a loud cheer was heard echoing from the direction of the living room, the noise clear enough to be heard as Ron's voice; "YES! HE COULDN'T WIN AGAINST ME! HOW'D YOU LIKE MY TURBO SPEED, WARIO?"

Hermione and Carol laughed both in disbelief at how quickly it was for Ron to become competitive over virtual opponents and in amusement to hear how he was into a children's game. Hermione knew Ron does not play many Muggle games because he found them complicated or plain but she also knew that he was curious to know how it works and feel.

Carol went back to scrubbing the plates and such while Hermione started to levitate the dishes back in their respective places in the cabinets. Hermione had to stifle a giggle when she saw her mother watch in astonishment. After all this time, she still could not get over Hermione's magical abilities but she was never scared just surprised.

"By the way, how's Harry?" Carol asked, filling in the silence. "I haven't heard from him for a whole week."

Hermione frowned. "He's on a mission right now in Montana. He's looking for a wanted criminal."

"Oh god," Carol gasped. "I never understood the laws in the wizarding world. Harry is an officer but he goes across countries for his job like a soldier. I don't know how you're able to deal with that tension, and poor Ginny too. Poor girl must be in hysterics."

"Ginny is a strong girl," Hermione said. "Having Harry going through dangerous missions is still rattling even though we lived through it for years – it's just – you know."

"Why doesn't he just retire?"

"Even if we talked to him about retirement, I don't think he would consider it," Hermione said. "It's this thing about Harry that makes him who he is. It's sort of a habit – a deadly and irritable habit, I always say." Hermione went to touch her necklace, lightly tracing the sapphire eyes of the otter charm. "Can't seem to shake him off his "saving-people" thing."

Carol saw the necklace and smiled, "Well, you can't help people doing what they grew up as. From what you told me years ago, Harry was part of this prophecy between him and this Voldy-wart bloke and all his life he was basically getting prepared for it. Maybe that's all he knows what to do."

"Oh no, mum. Harry is good at a lot of things other than chasing dark arts," Hermione countered. She looked up at the ceiling while leaning against the counter, still fingering the necklace mindlessly. "I actually expected him to be a Quidditch player since he loves it so much or maybe even a teacher."

Carol snorted and rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious!" Hermione laughed.

"Hermione, I expected _you_ to be a teacher with your love for books and learning. I thought you'd want to be the one teaching what you learned," Carol retorted.

"I'm not going to lie I did consider going for a teaching career," Hermione mused. "But mum, I'm serious about Harry being a teacher. I think he would have been an excellent one."

"And why is that?"

"Well, you remember when I told you about the group I was in? The one in fifth year? Dumbledore's Army."

"I remember something along those lines."

"That year, Harry was the one who taught us Defense Against the Dark Arts and you should have seen how brilliant he did," Hermione explained. "It took a couple a little longer but he taught us such advanced spells – the ones Ron and I know now – like the Disarming Charm – the Stunning Spell – the Levicorpus Jinx – the Reductor Curse – and the Patronus charm! That is the most advance magic there is and because of him I was able to do it in my fifth year! It was incredible!"

"It sounds fascinating," Carol said then adding, "Even though I have no idea what you're talking about."

Hermione grinned with a chuckle, shaking her head.

"So he was a great teacher?" Carol inquired.

"Absolutely. I thought he would choose to be a teacher than an Auror," Hermione said. "And he was actually planning to pursue that career but the headmistress wouldn't accept his application for the position of DADA. I was furious at her for that but then she said her reasons and I understood. I would want Harry to stay away from the one place that would remind him of his past too yet he's still working a job where he has to face his past daily. I find that worst. Hogwarts is his home still and I'd like him to be there than to be with the same people who would twist his image for publicity. At least at Hogwarts he made good memories – the Ministry doesn't have any."

"It's a shame," Carol suddenly remarked. "Seems like wherever he goes he can't seem to get away from his past."

Hermione frowned and nodded. "I want him to get away from it – I want him to quit his job. But he seems like – he just can't find it in him. Maybe what you said is true about him only knowing how to chase dark wizards. Quidditch is not that much of a lasting career and I know he wouldn't want to be away from his family for so many months but…I just feel like he can do better than that," she said. "I still think he's too hung up on his past especially with those Snatchers and Death Eaters still running about. Harry doesn't know how to let go."

"Then he has a problem," Carol pointed out. "He needs to learn to let go or he'll never grow. Sure, he is a grown man – has great kids – excellent job – healthy marriage with a nice wife – but he'll never grow more as a person if he doesn't learn to let go. There may be sides of him he didn't know he has but he wouldn't know because he stuck himself to being who he's expected to be."

"Yeah," Hermione trailed off.

Then Ron's voice came booming through the walls again, along with Hugo's loud giggles, only he sounded enraged and quite agitated; "ARE YOU BLOODY SERIOUS! I MADE IT TO THE FINISH LINE BEFORE YOU! I SHOULD BE FIRST PLACE! SCREW YOU, SONIC!"

"Ronald, _language!_ " Hermione yelled back but her words were drowned out by the overtaking string of curses coming from her husband, and then she sighed. "I better go before he corrupts our son's vocabulary."

"Good luck."

Hermione laughed, catching the sarcasm laced in her mother's words, and then left the kitchen.

* * *

Carol spent the remains of the evening playing video games with Hugo while Ron and Hermione watched from the side. Sometimes Ron would blurt out incoherent words whenever he would spot a glitch in one of the races, which would make Carol and Hugo laugh at his competitive attitude, and Hermione to calm him down from his reckless behavior. Hermione was beginning to assume that he has constructed a video game addiction in Nintendo gaming and can see that he is quite eager to get a hold of the controller again and beat Waluigi as revenge for hitting him with the red shell seconds before he was able to pass the line.

Around quarter to ten, Carol departed for her home with a few kisses and hugs to her daughter, grandchild, and son-in-law, Ron went to take a shower, and Hermione went to read Hugo to sleep before she went to the living room to tidying up the room before Ron finished his shower. Ron managed to convince Hermione to stay up late with him, despite her wanting to sleep early and be refreshed for the next day for the Prophet Ball, by promising her she can choose the style of dress robes for him and he would not complain. Hermione took quick advantage to accept his end of the bargain.

They ended up lying in bed with Hermione leaning against the headboard and Ron sitting between her legs as she pressed her fingers on the sore spots of his shoulders, neck, and back. Ron would occasionally squirm in her touches and Hermione would think he was going to pull himself from her grasp and want to go to sleep but he was just shifting his weight to get more comfortable. They were watching reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S since it was her favorite show to watch since 1994. Hermione would catch herself laughing at a few lines, but she wasn't really paying much attention to it. Her mind was completely focused on her talk with her mother.

Hermione considered her words; she had a difficult decision to make and she had no idea how she should feel about it or in what way she should act on it. She figured her mother is right that her feelings for Ron had flamed out in a quick breeze – it happens in a lot of marriages overtime that are not meant to last and perhaps she was not meant to be with Ron as long as they expected to be together. But then there are the children – she and Rose were still standing on a thin line and Hugo is quite the sensitive boy when it comes to his family. If she and Ron end up getting divorce then the kids would end up resenting the other more than the parent they are with, they would be separated if she or Ron don't end up having full custody of them, they would have to spend Christmas and New Years with one or the other they'd agree one. If everything does end up that way then they would never truly been compatible together as family again.

"Ow!" Ron winced and quickly leaned forward to slip away from Hermione's hands, rolling his shoulders. "I think you're taking his massage a little too serious."

Hermione grimaced. "Sorry, hun."

Ron leaned back into Hermione, staring at her cautiously over his shoulders, then tilted his head onto her shoulder and lightly kissed the side of her neck, sighing contently. Hermione looked down on him, her dark eyes instantly coming into connection with his light ones, and she lifted a hand up to push his hair back away from his freckled face, running her fingers through it a few times before she noticed the observant look on his face.

"What?"

"What's up with you?" he questioned curiously.

Hermione furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Hermione kept her composure and let out a small huff before nodding her head. Ron raised his eyebrows at her, showing his doubt in her. Out of old instinct, Hermione leaned down and gently kissed him on the lips, the hand in his hair trailing down to caress his cheek. Ron responded for a few seconds before he broke away and looked at her in the eyes again, his nose lightly brushing against the tip of hers.

"C'mon," he said. "I know you're hiding something. You've been unusually quiet today. You never stop talking with your mum around."

Hermione chuckled and moved away from Ron to be able to sit beside him and cross her legs together. She played with the frilly hem of her nightgown, avoiding the intent stare he settled upon her.

"It's not really something to worry about," Hermione said.

Ron looked at her, skeptical.

"Really – I'm fine," she responded.

"Hermione, c'mon," Ron said, raising a brow.

Hermione sighed and finally caved into him. He knew exactly how to get her to open about her secrets. She let a shy smile come onto her face as she continued to play with her nightgown frills, her curls falling over her face a bit.

"You remember when Hugo and I went to Hogwarts?" she asked.

Ron nodded.

Hermione took a deep breath and lightly placed her hand on his arm. "I finally talked to Rose."

Ron's eyes widen. "A-are you serious?" he asked dubiously, placing an uncertain hand on hers on his arm.

"Yeah," Hermione said. "She did most of the talking and she got a lot out of it. I told her some of my part too."

"No way," Ron said with a quiet laughter, the sound making Hermione smile tenderly knowing she had caused it for the first time in a long while. "So everything is okay now? Things between you are, you know, straight?"

The smile fell from her face and shook her head before she spoke again, "Well you see, the thing is, we're not entirely – we're still on the walk back to being okay again, Ron. She hasn't fully forgiven me yet. She did give me a chance though to be her mother again – she wants me to be there for her at Christmas when she sings and support her. If I do that then she'll forgive me – hopefully."

"Oh." Ron looked discouraged.

Hermione waited patiently but inside she felt disheartened by his reaction; she honestly expected him to be shining in complete bliss and bursting out in absolute joy to hear that his wife and daughter are trying to recollect after many years of bitter distance and resentment. She certainly felt it. His attitude was unpleasant to her confidence in fixing up her family effect from her mistakes and drowned out the growing hope she had to be fully part of her missing family. He seemed like he did not seem happy to know that she might be able to be well with Rose once more in six years.

"That's good," Ron finally answered after an uncomfortable moment of silence. "That's really good to hear."

"Well you don't sound happy about it," Hermione said. "I was expecting more…emotion. You seem a little unhappy about this."

"What? No!" Ron quickly retorted. "I'm happy – I'm really happy. I'm just a little surprised."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"But I am happy – I really am."

Ron reached a hand around Hermione's head and pulled her towards him; he kissed her fully on the mouth, putting his top lip over her bottom lip, making her sigh as he slowly pulled away. Hermione kept her eyes slightly half-opened during the kiss while Ron had his closed, trying to focus on what she felt with his lips against hers and she was still disappointed to what she is feeling: nothing. She did not feel that unbearable hunger in the pit of her stomach that would get worse like fire growing large the more fuel it is given. She was just numb from all kinds of sensations.

Internally scared, Hermione almost instantly pulled him back to her and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Ron responded automatically, his hands traveling down to her lower back, before she slid her hands up to his hair, gently gripped on it, and pulled, making him release a moan while pressing onto her back. He leaned back into her grasp, bringing her with him, as he fell onto his back and she brought one leg over him, straddling him by the hips. Hermione slowly pulled back with her teeth capturing his bottom lip, tugging the flesh teasingly like she normally did, making him growl in wonderful delight.

Hermione realized where they could possibly be heading to and she was positive that she could possibly go along with the act when she is going through her inner turmoil with her unsure feelings, but with the way how Ron had trailed his hands down onto her backside, gently kneading it smoothly to get a noise out of her, she knew that she was far in too deep to stop and had to go along to not hurt his feelings. Hermione slides her hands down from his hair, feeling the pulse in his throat as she passes it, touching the collar of his nightshirt until she reached the top button. She began to slowly unbutton the shirt, one by one, and traced one finger down the revealed skin of his exposed chest. Ron couldn't seem to hold back the groan in his throat as she rubbed his chest, igniting desire in him.

Hermione kept telling herself that she can do this, that she can go through this as they panted and gasped in anticipation of what is predictable to come. Then, as if her inner conflictions were getting answered, as if a rush of luck had been rubbed over her, a faint click was heard down the hall and the sound of their son's voice calling out to them when Hermione got to the last button of Ron's shirt.

"Dad? Mummy? I'm hungry. Can I have cookies? And chocolate milk?" Hugo said in a raspy, whiny voice.

Ron tensed, paused for a moment, then sighed while releasing his hold around Hermione and dropped himself onto his back, recognizing that the boiling atmosphere had gotten frigid, the blazing mood is completely ruined. Hermione bit her lip, apologizing as she scrambled off him to the other end of the bed with a deep blush on her cheeks, her breathing labored, as she straightened her nightgown. She can hear tiny footsteps coming to the door and a second later, Hugo appeared in his pajamas, rubbing his eye, his hair tousled in different directions, and yawning lightly.

Ron sat up shortly and started to button up his shirt again.

"Honey, you can't have any chocolate or you'll get nightmares," Hermione said.

"Can I have some oatmeal cookies?" Hugo asked.

"If you drink white milk," Hermione answered.

Hugo scowled but nodded.

"I'll have some with you, little tyke," Ron said as he rolled out of bed and approached his son to lift him in his arms. He turned to face his wife. "You need anything?"

"Don't make a mess in the kitchen," Hermione said wittily.

Ron rolled his eyes while Hugo chuckled sleepily as he laid his head on Ron's shoulder and then Ron left the room, leaving behind the echoes of his footsteps.

Once Hermione was sure she was completely alone, she flopped down on her back, closing her eyes as she let out a long sigh. She felt horrible for almost letting them become loose in the act of sexual intercourse when her feelings for Ron were not solid as she thinks they are and she knew she could not go along with it, knowing she could not react as naturally as she used to. She felt awkward, uncoordinated, and not the least aroused with his touches.

But in the midst of it all, the only thing she felt out of it was relief when it was over.

* * *

The following day, the lives of the joined families had gotten hectic. Ginny came to the Weasley home eleven in the morning with Lily to drag Hermione out of bed for a day of shopping last-minute dresses for the ball and pushed the boys to go buy newer set of robes that did not seem _"dull and worn"_ as she said much to the boy's dismay, especially when she wouldn't allow them to even have a muffin for breakfast. But Hermione managed to persuade them to come along by allowing Hugo to purchase one book from Whizz Hard Books before it was published and Ron to buy a new Chudley Cannons Jersey.

Diagon Alley was still the same beautiful, large attraction that had gotten much more polished and quaint than Liverpool in Muggle England. Ginny had gone to many events for her job as well as the ones Harry's department would have or the Ministry would host during the holiday season so she knew the area very well than Hermione and Ron combined. She did not spend time admiring the picturesque boardwalk that had been placed and dove straight to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

The girls and the boys separated into different gender sections. Hermione and Lily seemed surprised and almost incredulous when Lily told them about the birthday party she attended for one of her friends from school.

"She got mad because I got her a Chloe instead of Yazmin," Lily said. "Now she won't invite me to any more parties because my presents are the worst."

"Spoiled brat if you tell me," Ginny murmured. "If her mother wasn't a Muggle, I would have hexed her looking like a beaver with bat ears. Saying that we should just get her an envelope of money instead. Bloomy munter. I bet to you when she went to primary school, everyone would be playing in the swings while she sat around like Billy no-mates."

Hermione rolled her eyes, smirking.

"Don't listen to them, sweetie," Ginny said. "You have plenty of friends. You don't need Julia."

"Your mother's right, Lily Bear," Hermione nodded. "When Ginny and I went to Hogwarts, we didn't have any friends at first but we didn't let that stop us. We just kept being who we are until the right kind of friends came along. Your right kind of friends will come one day."

"Will they be like Uncle Ron and daddy?" Lily questioned. "Or like Uncle George?"

"Maybe. You never know."

They walked towards the adult section, thoroughly scanning the racks for extravagant clothes. Silky material and professionally sewed up designed gowns, patterned robes, creative cloaks, and occasional teacher's uniforms are seen, making it possible for one to forget that they are in a store.

"I miss daddy," Lily muttered sorrowfully. "He hasn't sent a letter or anything to me. Doesn't he miss me?"

Hermione frowned in silent as she heard the dejected tone of her niece's voice and she struggled to find a good excuse to comfort her, irritated by the show of process of her creativity. But she knew she could not come up with a good story was because she was too worried to figure out what was going on with Harry in Montana and why she had not heard of him at all lately. She was anxious to know if she had encountered Yaxley or Jugson, if he had walked away with no scars or any signs of injuries, if he had arrested them or one of them, and if he was on his way home right now with the rest of his squad. She would not have to be overly scared of Harry's well-being if he sent her a letter once in a while.

"Of course he misses you, Lily," Ginny replied kindly as they walked deeper into the store, having found the rack of fancy dress robes for women. "He's just really busy. I'm sure you'll hear from him soon."

Lily still seemed bitter but she did not say anymore. She crossed her arms, looked down at her feet, and grumbled as Ginny began to look through the selection of robes in her size. Hermione noticed the change in Lily's posture and she felt bad for the young girl. She figured the redhead must have mentioned or asked her father many times to her mother that Ginny had gotten used to it and had lacked excuses of his absence.

Hermione formed a small fake smile and gently patted Lily on the head to get her attention. "Cheer up, Lily Bear. I'm sure wherever your father is he is thinking about you so much and he can't wait to come home to see you again."

"I miss how snippy he was with my curfew," Lily said. "He would make sure there's no monsters in my bed or closet to protect me and make me safe. I can't sleep if he isn't there to do that. Mum does it but…it's not the same."

Hermione's smile turned real at this. "He did, huh? Well, think of it this way – whoever he is fighting right now is to make sure they don't get in your closet or bed when you're sleeping. That way he'll keep you safe and protected like he does every night."

A tearful smile broke out on Lily's disgruntle face. "He is, isn't he?"

"Oh, most definitely," responded Hermione; the corner of her eye she can see Ginny watching them over her shoulder. She patted her head again. "You are his little princess aren't you? It's his job to protect you."

Lily beamed. "Yeah, you're right. I'm his princess so he has to protect me from those bad people. Thanks Auntie!"

"Anytime, Lily Bear," Hermione chuckled. "Now how about you pick out a dress robe you like?"

Lily nodded vigorously before she immediately skipped away to the children section of dress robes, giggly happily to herself.

"Thanks for that," Ginny said, relieved. "I've been running out of things to say to her. She's been sleeping on Harry's side of the bed because she's scared to be in her own room. _"Monsters are going to eat me"_ she says." Ginny sighed. "I knew Harry shouldn't have gotten her used to that. At first he'd check as something to joke about with her but as time goes she started to believe in it. I knew it was going to become a habit."

"It's a pride thing," Hermione chuckled. "My dad used to do the same thing to me when I was around five or four. They like to feel like their kids need them."

"Not me," Ginny said indigently. "My dad checks my room to make sure neither of Fred or George's pranks was set up in there. _Those_ were my monsters."

Hermione snickered, shaking her head.

"You haven't heard anything from him yet?" Ginny inquired hopefully. "It'd be nice to hear something from him at least."

Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, Gin, if Harry wanted you to hear from him, he would send you a letter directly – not through me. No matter how bad you two fight, it won't stop him from sparing you the trouble of worrying over him. I'm sure you'll hear from him soon."

"I guess," Ginny replied with a shrug. "Anyway, let's hurry up and find something so we can find the boys quicker."

The dress selection had grown larger over the years but the girls were able to find a few robes to try on – a lot in Lily's department. Hermione learned that Lily held a secret love to shop but she kept it hidden from her brothers in hopes to not get teased at. Hermione sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, watching Ginny getting the dress she chose altered to fit her slim figure.

Ginny was torn between two. A stunning golden dress that reaches her ankles, made out of a silk that gave it such glamour, a bead and tulle embellishment, and a classic cowl neckline that gave it a flattering touch. The other was a one-shoulder satin gown made out of matching blood red silk material that would easily bring out the outline of Ginny's attractive assets and the color of her flaming hair. Hermione encouraged her to go with the second one; she did not need to go full-out for a simple ball as she was the guest of honor.

Ginny wanted her to go with a pale pink cocktail dress that seemed to have awfully too short in Hermione's eyes but she had chosen a cobalt blue one-shoulder dress with a drape over the shoulder and reached above her knees. Both Hermione and Ginny helped Lily pick a dress that suited her; a simple black and white patterned dress with a bow around the waist.

When they searched and found the boys in the men section of the store, they were disappointed to see that they have yet to pick a set to their liking and that they hardly seem to even try to look for one. Hermione and Ginny did not waste time to find a set of robes for them in no time but they were finding it quite a terrible challenge to sway them into measuring them as they showed their dislikes towards the gowns.

"You have to try and pick one, Ronald," Hermione told them sternly as she placed her hands on her hips and raised a brow at him.

"I don't get the point of buying these," Ron murmured, eyeing at the two sets of blue and maroon dress robes he is holding with a look of distaste. "I got a good set back home so why waste more money to buy new ones?"

"You've worn those robes for years that they're worn and raggy – not to mention you've outgrown them," Hermione pointed out. "And the robes you wore for our wedding would just look ridiculous. You'll look like you've lost your way to a wedding."

"At least I'll look fancy," Ron mumbled.

Hermione sighed. "Ron, please. Just put them on so we can see which one looks good on you. You too, Hugo."

Hugo nearly choked on his own saliva. "Like…model them? Are you serious, mum?"

"How else are we going to see if they look good on you?" Lily said tauntingly. "It's not that hard, H."

"Okay," Hugo said uncomfortably. He took the dress robes his mother was holding and quickly made his way to one of the free changing rooms, stepped inside, leaving a small crack for the others to see the warning glare he has on. "No. Peeking," he sneered before he closed the door with a click.

"I just got chills from that," Ginny commented sarcastically, making Lily giggle.

Ron groaned. "Fine, I'll try one. Only. _One_." He hiked the robes over his shoulder as he went to the vacant dressing room next to Hugo's and hastily closed the door behind him.

Hermione breathed in relief and slumped down on a nearby chair, rubbing her temples. Lily saw it as an opportunity to climb onto her aunt's lap and settle herself comfortably. Their purchased dresses are left in a bag next to the chair.

"Mum, why don't the boys like to shop?" she asked.

"Because it's too much work for them," Ginny said. She turned to Hermione, frowning. "You'd think he be more supportive of this than he's showing. Stuff like this rarely happen and it be nice if he doesn't make a scene. He had parties for things he achieved and I showed up with no complain-"

"Ginny," Hermione warned, glancing over at the attentive girl on her lap.

"Right," Ginny sniffed. "I'm just saying – it'd be nice if he acted more nicely about it."

"You know Ron was never really a fan of these events," Hermione retorted. "But I'm sure he is proud of you and excited to be there on the inside - deep down."

"Way – _way_ – deep down," Ginny muttered.

One of the dressing room doors swung open; Hugo stepped out shyly, looking down at his fit embarrassingly, his cheeks tinted bright pink, and his hands clutched behind his back. The deep purple dress robes he was wearing fitted him perfectly, the color blending well with his skin tone, but it was a bit wrinkled. Hermione raised her brow again when she noticed this and Hugo instantly saw her reaction.

"I-I struggled to put on the vest," he said sheepishly.

 _He looks so grown_ , Hermione thought bitterly but she smiled. "I like it, honey. You look dashing."

Hugo's blush became deeper. Ginny chortled at the sight.

"Quite charming, if I may add," Ginny said teasingly. "You'll have girls swarming at you from left and right."

Hugo's face scrunched up in revulsion and shook his head, making the two women laugh. Just then, the other dressing room was pushed open and Ron walked out with his lips pressed into a hard line. He held his arms to the side as he looked at the girls expectantly.

"Well?" he asked.

"You'd look better if you smiled," Ginny said with a shrug. "But not bad. Turned out better than I expected."

Ron rolled his eyes and turned to Hermione.

"I like it," was her quick response. She can see he was becoming desperate to leave the store and she was also eager to leave as well. She was never a fan of shopping as much as Ginny and Lily are. Her mother tried to get her to go to the department stores but she always declined and stayed indoors to read or do homework.

"Great!" Ron said in satisfaction. "We have our pick. Can we go now?"

"Yeah," Hugo agreed. "I want to go and get the new book by Marilyn Chow. The first edition is still on sale."

Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Fine, we can go. But-"

Neither Ron or Hugo stayed to hear what she was going to say as they darted back into the dressing rooms to change out of their dress robes.

"Boys," Lily mumbled with a bored expression.

"Tell me about it," Hermione said.

* * *

They made plans to go to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch as the trip in the store had taken most of their time longer than they have expected and the line in Gringott's for a withdrawal was ridiculously long than anticipated on a Sunday morning. The girls had decided to free the boys from their clutches to let them explore Diagon Alley together in whichever shop they desired to visit while Ginny pulled Hermione to the beauty salons to find the perfect hairstyle that went along with their dresses and search for the finishing additions of accessories in the jewelry stores.

Sometimes during their walk around the market, they came across Flourish and Blotts where a new edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them_ on display caught Hermione's eye. Ginny, with forced enthusiasm, was willing to come inside with her, and Hermione chose to take advantage of her kind generosity to purchase the book. She had been a fan of Newton Scamander ever since her first time reading it in first year.

Afterwards, the girls just stomped along the streets of the market aimlessly, killing the time with just spending it together as their reasons for shopping had be finished shortly, until they came across with the boys again. Ron had finally gotten the Chudley Cannons Jersey and a new broomstick servicing kit while Hugo had managed to get the first edition of Marylyn Chow, a book about the wizarding world in the eyes of magical creatures. It was quite popular in the charts although it had not been released yet but the author behind it was famous for her brilliant creative stories of the lives and harsh times that a specific magical creature goes through. Hermione admired her ever since she read the book, _A Sickening Delight: Elves' Slavery Life_. It was one of the many reasons why she got many supporters for S.P.E.W.

The sun was dimming from the day, hardly brightening through the clouds floating by, and before she left with her daughter, Ginny had told them that the ball would begin in an hour and she would come by to leave with them five minutes before. After, the Weasleys apparated back to their households and Hermione immediately got them to be prepped and ready. The boys went along with her to avoid getting lectured or an earful from the pressuring witch.

By the time they had freshened up and got dressed, Ginny had arrived with Lily. Hermione was checking the boy's appearance for any flaws.

"I feel like a dog," Hugo grumbled as Hermione retouched his bowtie. He glanced over at the railing of the coffee table, where Crookshanks was idly sitting upon, licking his paw. "Lucky cat. Why doesn't he get to wear a collar?"

"Because he doesn't need one," Hermione answered.

"What if he gets lost?"

"Then I would have lost him a long time ago. I let him walk around and he always finds his way back."

"I still think he should wear a collar so he can know how it feels. It's only fair."

"One day," Hermione chuckled. She pulled back and examined her son's appearance appreciatively. "There – done."

"I'm suffocating," Hugo said, deadpanned.

"Oh, how I love your enthusiasm," Hermione remarked sarcastically. "You look absolutely smashing, honey."

"I don't want to be," Hugo whined. "I don't want girls to swarm all around me. Aunt Ginny said they would."

"She was only kidding," Hermione assured him with a smile. "Girls in your age aren't interested in boys yet. They're more focused things like glitters and unicorns."

Hugo looked mortified. "Wait, there'll be a time when they'll like boys?"

Hermione just smiled and shrugged. Hugo groaned in agony, hanging his head low, as he trudged out of the living room and went to meet with Ginny and Lily in the foyer. Hermione chuckled under her breath. She should not be amused by her son's displeasure but she found it to be overly dramatic that it was somewhat comical. And when she heard Ginny loudly praising Hugo's appearance, she had to muffle out her giggle with her hand over her mouth.

A set of footsteps came into the room and Hermione turned to the other entrance of the living room to see Ron slipping the long robe over his shoulders, muttering. His hair was combed back with one strand leaning over his forehead, exposing the boyish features of his freckled face that held his hidden charms. Hermione trailed her eyes downward; he was wearing dress shoes, polished and shining.

"Hey," he said, tugging on his vest.

"You look handsome," she told him honestly, kissing him on the cheek.

"Thanks," Ron said coolly. "It's now or never."

"Just be nice," Hermione said, half-stern yet half-amused.

"What do you mean?" Ron retorted in mock defense. "I'm always nice."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She took his hand in hers and pulled him with her as she walked out into the foyer. The first thing she noticed was how wonderfully prepped Lily was in her dress, her straight hair was twirled in defined curls that bounced whilst she whirled around, her hands held out as if she was waltzing with another. She was certainly feeling the atmosphere of festivities. Ginny was checking the strap of her heels to make sure they did not look like they were going to be tear and Hugo was grimly sitting on the bottom of the stairs.

"Surely that can't be Lily Luna Potter, can it?" Ron asked in surprise.

Lily paused on her dancing and giggled delightfully as she blushed. "It's me, Uncle Ron!"

"C'mere you!" Ron said with a grin as he lifted the young redhead in his arms and held her at his hip. "Who are you looking pretty for?"

"Myself," Lily answered confidently.

"Nice to know she has the right kind of mindset," Ron remarked impressively to his younger sister as he went forward to quickly embrace her. "You don't look bad either, I guess."

"You're no Lockhart yourself, Ronald," Ginny shot back. She breathed in and gave them an uneasy smile. "Everything set?"

Hermione, noticing the wavering in her voice, stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"Everything will go fine, Gin, you have nothing to worry about," she said softly.

Ginny gave her a weak smile that did not reach the false light in her eyes. Hermione predicted her vivacious behavior to die down as soon as the moment arrived ever since that day Ginny arrived in her office. She had really wanted Harry to be there on this relevant time of her career because she wanted to be able to share it with him as she had been there to celebrate his victory against the war, his accomplishment to getting the position of an Auror, and the day he was proposed as Head Auror by the previous one. He shared those milestones with her and she wanted to do the same with him.

Hermione took Hugo's hand and looked at Ginny. "We're ready."

Ginny nodded again and took Hugo's free hand. Hermione went to tangle her fingers with Ron's as he tightened his hold around Lily.

Ginny looked over to see if everyone was connected, and, seeing as everyone was prepared, disapparated them.

* * *

Hermione had been to many of these occasions part of Ron's job and she was used to seeing the spectacular decor that would be hanging above her head but when they landed in front of the entrance to the ball, she was rendered speechless.

The most she noticed was that the ball was taking place in the home of Barnabas Cuffe and that it was twice the size of her house combined with Ginny's. The floor was held about two meters above ground by huge pillars carved into two wizards kneeling while holding up the house, with numerous staircases led up the way to the main entrance made out of oak wood. The platform was wrapped in vines that held fluttering fairies that created specks of light on the pathway to the door, along with decorated multi-colored flowers arranged elegantly and jars holding blue fire balls lined up on the driveway for carriages to follow.

"Basic," Ron said, disinterested. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Is this a castle, mummy?" Lily asked.

Ginny shrugged. "A little bit."

"Might as well as bought a castle," Ron murmured. "He looks like he's going for it."

"Ron," Hermione said sternly. "Behave."

"I am, I am," Ron huffed.

The group made their way up the staircase and reached the door that was left open. The fairies that sat in the flowery vines twinkled down to greet the children by flittering around them to make them giggle and laugh pleasantly before they returned to their spot. A tiny elf, about two and a half feet, wearing a well suit tuxedo appeared at the door and offered his arm for their coats. It did not take Hermione long to recognize the small creature attending them. The glowing anime eyes that held young innocence in his sea-green iris, a pointed nose that was small and curled down at the tip, and small ears that seem alike a Chihuahua's.

"Truffles?" she guessed.

The small elf blinked in amazement at the recognition of his name but then, after looking over the brunette witch for a minute, he gasped in glee as he leapt up to wrap his small, scrawny arms around Hermione's legs, nearly making her tip over.

"Miss Hermione Granger!"

Hermione laughed. "Truffles! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the other elves?"

"Truffles has offered his services to the Cuffe's, Madam," Truffle said, releasing Hermione's legs. "Truffles is willing to help wizards in need."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I don't mind if you chose to help but are they treating you right?"

"Oh most definitely," Truffle responded enthusiastically. "Mister Cuffe does not want to upset Miss Hermione Granger in any way. Mister Cuffe wants to respect laws. Truffles gets breaks three times an hour when Truffles pleases and free treats. Truffles is happy."

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Shall Truffles take your coat?"

"Thank you."

Hermione slipped off her black coat from her shoulders, folded it, and placed it in the awaiting hands of the small elf. Ginny did not find a coat that would match her dress and Ron and Hugo only had their robes

"Ball is down the hall on the left," said Truffles before he disappeared with a crack.

The group walked down the corridor leading to the ballroom; the columns were lavished in ancestral white paintings and was built in a Greek-esque that seemed breathtaking. The hard floor was lost of any prints of feet or dirt, gleaming under the flickering glow of the many fires of the torches hanging on the walls. There were large self-portraits of Barnabas in various countries, shaking hands with important socialites, attending special dinner dates, and a wide rectangle frame of him with the whole crew of the Daily Prophet.

"Even at a ball you're around your work," Ron said.

"I didn't know he was going to be here," Hermione retorted snidely. "It was a coincidence!" She glanced over at Ginny. "Does Cuffe always use magical creatures like this?"

Ginny shook her head. "Calm down, Miss Protective. I told you lot – Cuffe doesn't do these events often. Besides, the elf just said he offered his services to help out and he's getting treated well. _Relax_."

"Excuse my wife and her workaholic ways," Ron grinned slyly. "It's a disease."

" _Excuse me_ and _my instincts_ to these creatures," Hermione retorted heatedly. "Especially if it's one of the many I took care of since their birth."

"You know I always wondered how elves reproduce," Ron said curiously. "It just seems impossible for them to multiply. The males don't look like they have a-"

"Oh heaven's sakes, Ronald, the children are here," Hermione groaned. "Honestly!"

Lily and Hugo laughed quietly at the two adults squabbling.

When the group rounded the corner and got their first look in the ballroom, Hermione nearly tripped over her heels at the sight that she was standing in; the walls were covered in large glass windows that touched the ceiling to the floor, connected to a skyline that showed the twinkling of the alight stars and the moon that was shining an ethereal luminosity in its fullest shape. The silver streamers hanging by the many beautiful statues captured the light of the ornate chandelier hanging at the center of the top, many twittering flocks of glittering lights seen coming from almost hundreds of fairies chatting idly among themselves on the object.

The room was crowded by many people dressed in the best finery, some not even for sale yet, milling around. Various guests from members of board of education to superintendent, reporters to photographers, managers to assistants, and international governors were seen occupying any open space on the floor. Some were seated on the round tables that floated in the air, as others were leaning against the balustrade to speak, and the variety are taken to the main floor to dance graciously with their partner or invitee.

On each window was a table displaying several dishes of tempting desserts, and mouth-watering meals that left a heady scent inside the room, known to wizards and witches. The finger treats were being passed around by elves in matching suits as Truffles and in altered dresses, the most being caviar, quiche, tiny cake squares, and chocolate-covered strawberry. In the far north corner was a stage holding the many speakers and equipment of the notorious _Weird Sisters_ , who were singing loudly one of their many hit singles. Warlocks can be seen hidden in the mist of smoke coming from their pipes; Hermione noted to make sure the children steered clear of that particular group. They already seemed under the influence of alcohol.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Hugo grumbled. Hermione pursed her lips and held him closer, her hand clutching his shoulder firmly.

"You and me both, son," Ron mumbled.

"Suck it up," Ginny said through gritted teeth as she took Lily's hand. "It's not bad," she added before she began to stride through the crowd, getting immediate greets, kisses, and inviting hugs to those who came in her way.

Hermione looped her arm through her husband's as they followed the leading redhead through the parting crowd, keeping her hold on Hugo as tight as she could without hurting him, not wanting to lose track of him in the swarm of people she recognized to have horribly known reputations. She had witnessed some of their cases, watching the attorney of the defendant failing miserably to win the fight, and seeing them glow in content to be free. She felt her throat tighten as many familiar faces pass by her without a second glance back, memories of their cases flashing through her mind like a slideshow, forcing her to remember the causes; thievery – domestic violence – child abuse – drug abuse – rapes – murders – pedophilia – and relations with the dark arts.

 _Why did I agree to come to this?_ Hermione thought in disgust, swallowing hard. A tug on the hem of her dress snapped her out of her reverie and she glanced down to see Hugo looking up at her, his hand gripping on her dress.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked, glancing to her side. She can see Ron was consumed in a conversation with an investor of a toy company. He was killing two birds with one stone in supporting Ginny on her big event and coming up with different way to make bigger sales.

"Isn't that Gerald?" Hugo pointed across the room.

Hermione followed where his hand was directing to, peering through the small gaps of the moving people, until she was able to spot a blur of curled black hair and striking clear blue eyes standing by the snack table. She let out a relieved breath to see it was truly Gerald Dillingham. He was talking to another wizard she felt familiar with but could not figure out from where and she was a bit wary to see a full glass of champagne, hoping that it was his first.

Hermione turned to Ron and placed another hand on his arm as she slipped hers away from his elbow. He paused from talking to the investor to look at her expectantly.

"I'll be right back," she told him. Without another word, she took Hugo by the hand and stalked off in the direction of Gerald and the unknown man.

It took her a while to be able to reach him without bumping shoulders or having another tumble into her son, but she managed to approach the duo calmly. However, another figure had trudged in her way before she could react, and she came in contact with a broad chest with a light "oof". She quickly stepped back to apologize but when she gazed up at the face, she bit her tongue to prevent herself from letting out an irritated groan, and then bit the inside of her cheek to stop the snarl that was threatening to break from the back of her throat as that arrogant smirk she loathed deeply was formed. It has been twenty years since that awful night at the Slughorn Christmas Party in her sixth year she had last saw that and she honestly thought it was going to be the last.

"McLaggen," she murmured.

Cormac grinned slyly. "Hermione Granger – Do my eyes deceive me? it's been a long time!" His eyes went over Hermione appreciatively, making her self-conscious. "You look ravishing."

Hermione gave him a curt nod. "It's Hermione Weasley now, Cormac." She held up her left hand, flashing the wedding band on her fourth finger, and smirked. "I'm married."

Cormac's eyes widen in shock. "Wow, so it's true. I thought it was just the prophet pulling the mickey out of me on that one. I never thought you'd marry him."

"Yeah, well, there's a lot of things you didn't think about," Hermione remarked haughtily. Hugo hid behind her to hide his giggles. "I can see you haven't changed a bit either."

Cormac shrugged. "Oh I have. I'm not a legal advisor. I'm actually on my way to Washington next weekend for a very important meeting with Minister Gibbs. I wish I can tell you what it is but it's classified."

"I didn't really ask," Hermione pointed out. She made an attempt to move past him but he stood his ground.

"Is this your son?" Cormac asked in disbelief. "Tell me he's the only one."

"I have two," Hermione answered reluctantly. "A daughter – she's in her first year at Hogwarts."

"No way," Cormac said. "I have a daughter who's attending her second year. I write to her every day. She's always complaining about this one lad who keeps competing against her, always trying to outdo her in music and such."

Hugo gasped lightly behind his mother while Hermione's eyes widen almost comically.

"I see," she said calmly. "Is your daughter's name by any chance, Mercy?"

Cormac blinked. "Yeah, it is. How'd you know?"

Hermione's formed in a hard line. "Because the lad she complains about happens to be my nephew and Harry's eldest son."

"Is that so?" Cormac chuckled. "Small world."

"Yeah." Hermione nodded, frowning deeply. "I'm not going to lie – I'm surprised to hear you're married as well."

Cormac shook his head, his face hardened. "Divorced," he replied casually. "Caught her shagging another while I was away for business. It was finalized this summer."

"Oh." Hermione suddenly felt guilty for acting so rash and impolite to him. "I-I'm sorry…I didn't-"

Cormac waved her off. "Forget about it. I got full custody of Mercy and I'm still making millions. I still have it all."

Hermione actually smiled truthfully. "Right."

"Can I offer you a drink?" asked Cormac, gesturing a hand to a table covered in many bottles and glasses of soft and hard liquor that are similar to the one in his hand.

"Actually, I was on my way to talk to a friend from work," Hermione replied kindly. "Perhaps I'll have one later."

"Oh okay," Cormac frowned for a second but then he smirked and nodded his head towards the dance floor. "Save me a dance then?"

"We'll see," Hermione said. She discreetly hid her free hand behind her back and crossed her fingers. Hugo caught her movement and buried his face in his mother's hip to muffle his laughter.

Cormac winked at her, gave her another coy smirk, and then he sauntered his way through the crowds, instantly disappearing within the mass.

Hermione released a breath she has been holding throughout the conversation, placing a hand on her chest to calm her rapidly beating heart. She felt extremely awkward and agitated to be in the mere presence of the same man who was rude to her friends and was (and seems to still be) conceited about himself. Although she felt pity for him to have to divorce a woman he loved because she cheated on him, she hoped to not have to encounter him again for the whole night.

"You attracted a lot weird people, mum," said Hugo. "You're like light to moths."

"Moths are much more tolerable than him," Hermione retorted. "He's more like those annoying flies."

Hugo rolled his eyes, laughing.

Hermione tightened her hold on her son's hand as she turned back to the table of delicious snack. Gerald and the unnamed man were still there, now loudly guffawing loudly between themselves. They had moved a bit farther from the table as it was being swarmed by guests in hunger for sweetness and rush of sugar. She also noticed that the glass in Gerald's hand seemed refilled and she gritted her teeth as the thought of him being loose with alcohol. He was not like her – his tolerance was much higher than hers compared but in occasions such as this ball and it being filled with numerous righteous people who were accused of illegal drug abuse was an unwanted risk. He could be caught in a lethal trick by someone sickening to the mind.

Hermione fastened her pace towards her assistant, eager. When she approached them, the unknown man was the first to notice her and Hugo coming their way as Gerald's back was facing them. He tapped on Gerald's shoulder and gestured toward Hermione. Gerald whirled around and he immediately grinned brightly, showing his pearly white teeth.

"Hermy!" he acknowledged vociferously, throwing an arm over her shoulder. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Already drunk I see," Hermione replied coolly.

"Not even," Gerald said. "I'm on my third."

Hermione took the glass from his hand. "And now your last."

"C'mon Hermy, don't be a buzzkill," Gerald groaned. "It's a party!"

Hermione shook her head, smirking. She took a sip on the champagne, making sure that the gloss of her lips left a mark on the rim. She raised a teasing brow at the dark haired wizard when he growled at her and chuckled into the glass, finding his easily annoyance to be more entertaining than the party itself.

Gerald glanced down at Hermione's hip and smiled at the sight of red peeking out from behind. "Hey Hugo," he drawled.

"Hey Ger!" Hugo said, smiling.

Gerald crouched down. "Hey, there are a few kids in the yard playing some Quidditch and racing. Why don't you go and play with them?"

Hugo's face brightened up. Gerald stealthily motioned to where the doors leading to the backyard are located. Hugo quickly ran off, the back of his robes flapping behind his scattering feet.

"He loves you," Hermione observed.

"What's not to love?" Gerald scoffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Then she remembered the man accompanying Gerald; he was interested in studying the wine glass in his hand, swirling it into a small whirlpool of crystal and flavor.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to be rude. I just wanted to make sure Gerald here didn't go over his limit," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Hermione Weasley, nice to meet you, um-"

"Cole Shine," said the wizard politely as he took her hand and shook it. "I already know who you are. I love your work – it's fantastic."

Cole Shine was an average man; he, in a way, resembled what a Roman god would look like in modern times with the thin mustache and thick beard. His long brown curls were puffed into a small afro, and his skin seemed natural, like he had taken a recent tan. He was lanky, slim, a few inches taller than Gerald and made Hermione seem below five foot.

Hermione blushed. "Thank you. But may I ask where you work? You seem oddly familiar."

"I'm a writer in _Witch Weekly_ ," he answered. "I write in the advice column." He leaned forward as he whispered, "I'm Ms. Nice."

Hermione's eyes widen. "Really? My mother-in-law always reads _Witch Weekly_. I honestly did not expect that. You don't look like a Ms. Nice."

"That's a relief!" Charlie laughed. "So many people always describe Ms. Nice as some old hag with warts and long nails. You won't believe how insulted I felt. I was starting to believe I am one."

"I can guarantee you, you're not," Hermione chuckled.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Cole grinned.

"So how do you and Gerald know each other?" asked Hermione before she took another sip of her stolen champagne.

Cole suddenly seemed uncomfortable and Gerald became anxious. Hermione arched a brow and then glanced between the two of them, confusion painted over her face.

"Hermy, I need to talk to you about something," Gerald said, his voice frighteningly strong and a bit off.

He kept his arm around her shoulders tight as he turned her away from Cole and guided her across the room, leading her away from any areas that held more than three people or those who are openly known to be prejudice.

In the end, he ended up dragging Hermione out of the ballroom and into the empty corridors. There were still stragglers but they paid no attention to them as they made their way down to one of the massive twisted staircases. Hermione nearly stumbled over her delicate heels, finding them painful to her soles and toes; she never liked wearing such shoes with heels above two inches because she would end up wobbling and tripping over her steps but she would manage to wear them if she did not need to walk so much.

"Okay, what is going on?" Hermione asked once Gerald halted at the very bottom of the steps. She watched him curiously while he glanced around them cautiously, almost leaning over the edge to see if there are any eavesdroppers. She could not blame him for being careful – they are in a house full of sneaky and disrespectful reporters who enjoy twisting one's truth into an entertaining lie.

Gerald turned back to Hermione. "Look…Cole and I…we met at a pub in Muggle London sometime last month. He was having problems and he needed some comfort so I was the closest thing he had as a shoulder. We have a couple of rounds and…we stayed in contact since then."

Hermione stared at him. "Are you saying…you're seeing each other?"

Gerald bit his lip and nodded. Hermione grinned widely, a rush of excitement pulsing through her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, latching her hands on his upper back.

"Gerald, that's great!" she cheered quietly. "I'm happy for you! – I mean, I would prefer you to not go out with someone you just met in a pub – not all of them are trusting – that doesn't matter though because you finally found someone! – oh, and he seems so nice too – better than your last boyfriend, that's for sure – why didn't you tell me this sooner? I would have loved to meet him and –"

"Hermy – Hermione!" Gerald stopped her, pulling her back a bit by the shoulders, and shocking her with the serious look he has. "There's more."

"Like what? What more could there be?" Hermione questioned.

"It's a bit complicated," Gerald said slowly. He breathed deeply before he let out, "You see…Cole's married…to a _woman_."

"Cole's – and you two are –"

Gerald shushed her, clamping a hand over her mouth. He looked around the corridors, smiling nervously at the upcoming guests who were staring at them strangely as Hermione shrieked against his hand, and chuckling uneasily to ward of the strong tension in the air. Hermione's voice had not stopped muffling into his palm; she was shouting out a string of incoherent and angered words but Gerald somehow managed to understand.

"Yes he's married," he said in a hushed tone. "But you can't tell anyone."

Hermione yanked the hand away from her mouth and glared at him heatedly. Gerald retracted his hands and shrunk under her intense gaze.

"What the bloody hell are you thinking, Gerald?" Hermione demanded, her jaw clenched. "He's married! How can you be seeing a married man? Do you know what will happen when word get out? Do you know what will happen to _you?_ "

Gerald sighed. "I know, Hermy. But I can't help it. I really – and I mean _really_ – fancy this bloke. He's nothing like you expect him to be because he works at _Witch Weekly_. You know I wouldn't be interested in someone like that and how hard it is for me to find someone."

Hermione frowned. "Gerald, I know it's hard for you to find someone who shares the same perspective as you but this is completely mental. The man is married to a woman. Does he even have kids? – How long do you think this affair is going to last? – What if he's just using you? – What if he blurts out the fact that you're gay? – He can ruin you!"

"Calm down, Mother Bear," Gerald said. He knew how overprotective she can be with him and his sexuality; she tends to overly mother him and overstress whenever he gets involved with another. "I trust him. Besides he's getting a divorce soon, just waiting for the right time, that's all. He doesn't have any kids – he doesn't want any with his wife."

Hermione still looked uncertain. "Gerald, I don't know. It just doesn't seem right. Why is he even married to her in the first place if he's supposedly gay? A cover?"

"Yeah," Gerald nodded. "His parents are prejudice. They believe that homosexuality will be the main cause of extinction to the human race. You know with the whole _'not being able to reproduce between same sex_ ' thing. He found out he was gay when he was thirteen but he never found the courage to tell his parents because he was scared they'll disown him. So he just pretended to be straight to keep up his image."

"So why is he suddenly taking action?"

"He's tired. He fell in love with a lot of men over the years and he never got to be with them because of his parents. He realized he's a grown man now. He needs to face the world sometime."

"It's not the world I'm worried about here, Gerald, it's you," Hermione said. "Although I am sorry that Cole grew up unhappy – what if he isn't the kind of bloke you say he is? What if he hurts you?"

"Like him, Hermy, I need to face the world sometime too," Gerald replied. "It may cost me my job, lose a few friends, and maybe end up with getting shunned by my family for an eternity but I'm tired of living like this. I mean it's bloody 2017! The Muggles legalized gay marriages two years ago. Obviously, equality is winning."

"You know wizards don't share the same perspective as Muggle do," Hermione pointed out. She rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the throbbing sensation that was giving her a migraine. "Gerald, I love you, I really do. And you know I will always support you to the fullest but this is just too hazardous. You can't go around having an affair with an unattainable man."

Gerald narrowed his eyes, his traces of his cheerful façade vanished. "What about you? How come you get to go around and snog your brother-in-law behind your husband's back?"

"Th-that was different! You know that." Hermione stuttered, flustered. Then she shook her head. "Look, I'm just trying to look out for you. I don't want you to get your hopes up and then get crushed."

Gerald exhaled. "I know. Sorry."

"Don't be," Hermione shook her head. She brought her hands up to fix Gerald's tie that seem to have gotten a bit loose during their bickering. "Just be careful. After hearing all of that, I don't trust him, and it's not because he works in _Witch Weekly_."

"I understand," Gerald said. "You be careful with whatever's going on with you and Harry," he added as an afterthought.

Hermione blushed. "There's nothing going on between us. It was just a drunken mistake. We already talked about it."

"Lucky you," Gerald said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling. Hermione chuckled as she playfully smacked his arm.

"Please be careful."

"I will."

Gerald gave her an assuring smile and held out a polite arm. Hermione responded with a kind smile as she accepted his arm and allowed him to lead her back to the ballroom that was now pounding with the bass of the live band and the matching hops of the dancing guests.

* * *

The night was nearing eleven when the ball began to get wild and vigorous.

The slow notes of the _Weird Sister's_ popular songs soon increase into their accelerating, heart-pounding and ear-splitting recent singles that stood proudly on top of the charts. The floor shook under the deep bass beats, the windows vibrated with the resounds from the speakers, the fairies of the chandelier were gone and replaced with multicolored candles that Hermione remembered were from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the floating tables were lowered from the air, and the snack tables were refilled. The elves were dismissed from their duties and were probably sent back to rest for the evening in the kitchen.

The formal and elegance of the guest's movements were changed into the tangled mess of hips thrusting and grinding into each other in very lewd and tasteless manner. Hands lingered over thighs and napes of necks, some on torsos. Groups of comrades were crushed together in the middle of the rotating crowd, loudly singing the song playing, arrogantly laughing loudly. Pairs can be seen trying to be discreet in sneaking out of the ballroom but failing horribly as they drunkenly stumble across the floor and other can be spoken in the darker corners of the room, locked tightly in their arms while their faces were smashed together ferociously.

It was an endless cycle of raging hormones and bubbly arousal. Hermione never felt so uncomfortable in her life like she is right now.

 _Charming_ , she thought disgustingly as she passed a couple who was shamelessly rutting over their clothes against the pillars, the witch openly voicing out her desires for the wizard, and caressing her hands unabashedly over his intimate parts. She quickened her pace to make the distance between her and them greater.

She had gone off to use the bathroom and later went to get a glass of pixie wine when she saw how the party had transitioned into. She was currently looking for Ron, in hopes to relieve herself from her shaken demeanor with his live presence, but she was not able to spot her redhead husband anywhere along the edges of the dance floor. A voice in her head prayed that he was not part of the barbaric throng while she was gone; he had a few glasses of dragon blood beer the last time she was with him and she knew he tended to be a bit untamed under the influence of alcohol. Also any beverage mixed with either dragon blood or tears tends to be fifteen times stronger than it is originally. She had warned him to watch the amount he drank and she hoped he listened.

Ginny was not found either. After Barnabas had stopped the party to give a quick speech to congratulate the ginger witch for her helpful successful in raising sales rates, many people had taken her time. She was given offers to work in another company, invites to future important parties, and permissions for autographs. The horde of persistent superiors had engulfed her that her figure was suddenly lost in the crowd. Hermione had not seen her since but she can assume that her sister-in-law was still charmingly speaking to those who push onto her out of politeness.

A moment later, Hermione decided to step outside to the back porch when she saw the room was becoming too warm to her liking. She pushed her way out, breathing in delight at the natural crispy air, ignoring the fact that the air was somewhat frigid on her skin. The autumn season was truly here. She walked towards the stoned banister then leaned against it as she admired the open field of lush green and blossomed trees. She could still hear the pulsating music through the windows but it sounded more like a low thrums. There were a few couples strolling along the terrace yet aside from that she felt tranquil in the calm of the night. In the air, she can see Hugo and Lily's silhouettes speeding across the white moon along with the other children of the guests, and on the field there were a few more talking uproariously.

She looked back up at the sky with a smile. Watching the kids on their brooms always reverts her back to the many matches she saw in Hogwarts. She remembered how she would always keep her eyes mainly on Harry, hoping that no blundgers would get close to hurting him while in mid-air, fearing every waking moment for him. Ever since his first real Quidditch match she would always come prepared with new spells useful for any sorts of emergencies despite teachers being there for the same cause. She was always on edge since Harry's broom had been jinxed. Then later, she had been under twice the nerves when Ron made the team and she was afraid that the quaffle would be able to harm him even with the protection pads, and then with Harry never using the ability to think when he is in the game – she was under a lot of pressure. She did not have to be but they are her best friends and she couldn't help it.

Hermione saw Hugo perform an outstanding Wronski Feint that had impressed his onlookers and made Lily proud to see he was able to master her. She frowned bitterly as she pictured the time she saw Harry do that dangerous move and then she sighed sadly.

Hermione missed Harry. It was a little over a week since she had last been in contact with him. She worried he is in danger of any way but she truly yearned to have him next to her again to be able to just talk to him, laugh with him, scold him, nag him, and occasionally advise him when he needed. He was there to fill in the space of silence between them even if they did not speak at all. Their friends always point out how she and he have the ability to talk telepathically, leaving everyone in bewilderment to what they could possibly have running in their minds together. She missed being able to do that with him too. She missed her best friend in general. His hugs, yet awkward and timid, brought a warmth of comfort she would seek, his words were crude and forward but they encourage her, his attempts to make her laugh and feel cheerful were sometimes a loss but it still made a chuckle come out of her, and his constant recklessness would keep her on her toes that it annoyed her to no end.

Sometimes Hermione does wonder how she and Harry managed to stay even as friends. They had passed by through obstacles so severe that could have broken any other friendship. They somehow manage to go past it without a hitch. They could have disagreements and lashes at the other so strong to make another cry yet they always fall back with each other the next week or day as if yesterday never happened. Whether they speak about their fault or not, they are back to being who they are before it occurred. The problem didn't even have to be bad, it could be awkward enough to make them not want to see each other until they were ready.

Hermione's cheeks felt warm as her mind went back to their kiss – the second kiss they've shared in their lives. She remembered how stiff Harry acted around her after that night and that made Hermione rigid with fear and uneasy with nervousness. She feared that their friendship had gone downhill because it was her fault why the kiss happened and she was nervous that Ron may find out somehow that isn't from her. She was in guilt until Harry finally talked to her. She was touched to find out that he felt he was responsible to have taken advantage of her, although she saw no reason for him to be, and she felt lightheaded in luck to see how much of a good friend she truly has in Harry. Many people wonder why she put up with him but she never questioned him.

But a part of her does wonder about the way she felt when she kissed Harry. She could not find a decent explanation. The way how Harry's lips tasted on hers was like she was enjoying a bowl green apples coated in caramel mixed with bourbon, and the way how they felt were like plush pillows that were too soft she thought she was kissing a cloud. She could not breathe through the kiss. Her mind had been swallowed whole in a fog, all senses were ripped away from her as soon as he responded her with equal vigor, and her control in her hands, in what they do, were forgotten. Then there was his hair; she did not know what products he uses or if it was natural, she just knew that it was criminally tender and smooth when she ran her finger across the roots. It was softer than Crookshanks' fur and lighter than Hedwig's feathers.

Hermione inhaled a shaky breath as she thought about how the kiss had progressed on, hardly feel the beats of her heart drumming as it sped up in an inhuman pace that she thought it had stopped functioning altogether. She did not know who deepened it but that stranger churn in her stomach was insufferable the larger it grew as the kiss became uncontrolled, nearly savage. That undeniable craving of devouring with every bump of teeth and gasp for air had consumed her entirely that she was not herself anymore. The nimble touches of Harry's hands traveling over her waist to cross her back never let her spine feel the same again. And those noises he made were compulsive from the gentle sighs to the hitched breaths – she never knew such sounds could be so delectable to hear.

But what caught Hermione's attention throughout the kiss was the feeling – in the pit of her stomach crawling up in her insides and slithering into her heart. It was surprising how staggering it made her by the enticing shivers that ran along with her blood. She never knew it was humanly possible to feel such a strength of emotions from another person – she never knew she could feel like that towards Harry. The first time she kissed him was not as intensive and radical. It was sweet, innocent, and sweet. It left bumps on her skin, the hair on the nape of her neck to stand tall, flutters to run about inside her stomach, and the sensation of giddiness that never died until the upcoming year. It was normal for her to feel like that because it was her first kiss. Yet at the same time everything was different back then. They were kids, practically still babies, learning and exploring new things. But that was all that was different – their age was. She was still Hermione and he was still Harry. Perhaps that would explain why she is suddenly feeling what she –

The door behind her flew open, the flow of banging music bursts into her ears, and then it quieted down when the door shut closed. Hermione lets out an unsteady breath as she was able to leave her mind, noticing where her train of thought was heading to. She thanked the person who rushed out.

"There you are!" said Ron's voice and she felt herself turning to face him. His cheeks were pink from exertion and his hair was sticking to separate directions. His robes were wrinkled and his tie was undone, hanging around his neck loosely.

"Where were you?" Hermione asked as she reached up comb his hair away from his eyes. "I was looking for you everywhere."

"I was talking to this one bloke who has a store somewhere in Georgia. I think I got a deal with him to sell some products over there. I did give him a couple of rounds to ease him up a bit though," Ron explained. "I'm meeting him on Thursday for the closing."

"You never miss an opportunity do you?" Hermione smirked. "Did you drink too? You smell like you did."

"About five or seven," Ron said, slurring his words a bit. "But I'm still stable."

Hermione raised a brow, doubtful. "Sure you are," she murmured, shaking her head. "Anyway, can we go home? I don't feel so well."

Ron grew concern through his drowsiness. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm just tired," Hermione lied. She felt perfectly fine but she did not feel the urge to stay in a place full of hormone-driven people who seem to be getting louder by how clear Hermione can hear them through the windows and closed doors.

"Erm, are you sick?"

"Sort of. I think I drank too much wine and it didn't settle with me so well."

"Oh okay. Let me just get Hugo and we can leave after we say good night to Lily and Ginny. Sound good?"

Hermione nodded. Ron leaned down to kiss her lightly on the cheek before he made his way down the stairs that led to the lower levels of the field, stumbling somewhat over the steps. Hermione stood still, watching him in case he lost his balance.

A part of her felt awful lying to him about her health but she really wanted to leave the place. As much as she wanted to support Ginny though the end of the night, her energy drained from watching the kids flying their brooms. She enjoyed seeing how flying made her son and niece go mad with joy but right now all she can see is Harry in Hugo's place and thinking about him was taking her back to a dangerous hole she had struggled to climb out of years ago.

She does not think she can escape from it twice.

* * *

After receiving Hugo from the fields and saying their farewells to Ginny and Lily, Hermione apparated them back to their home. She did not want to risk Ron getting damaged during travel in his slightly drunken state or for Hugo to see the effects of poor concentration in Apparation; she did not want to traumatize him. She had to hold Ron firmly when they landed in front of their home, letting him lean his weight against her as she guided him up to the door.

Hugo reached the door ahead of them and opened it for them. Hermione paused halfway through the doorframe while Hugo entered, still holding the door wide.

"The door was unlocked?"

"No, I used the key under the mat."

Hermione walked inside, carefully dragging Ron with her, flicked the porch light off as Hugo closed the door and locked it.

"Mum, can I have some pie?" Hugo asked.

"No," Hermione answered. "Go and brush your teeth. You have school tomorrow."

Hugo groaned in defeat.

Hermione worked her way upstairs, her trend slow and tired, as she walked up the steps to the second floor with Hugo leading the path up. Ron was beginning to nod off by the time she reached the next floor and she quickly led him towards their bedroom while Hugo trudged down to his own. She was glad to see they had left the door open so she was able to take him in, walking blindly through the dark, until her knee came in contact with the side of the bed, and she lowered her husband on the pillows. He was already out like a light before his head landed.

Hermione groaned as she craned her head to the sides, feeling the bones crack. She went to the door to flick on the switch, her room instantly brightening up, and she looked back at Ron only to cringe once she saw the uncomfortable position he was in. She went back to him to shift his weight on his back and readjusted his head on the pillows.

"You're going to have a horrible hangover in the morning," she muttered as she sat on the bed and started to take off the torturing heels she dared to allow herself to wear. She hissed as she loosened the straps and kicked them off, nearly crying in bliss to be able to feel her toes again. She was surprised to see she did not get any blisters. "Ginny better love me more for this," she added with a moan of appreciation as she dropped backwards, her head landing on Ron's thigh, and closed her eyes.

"Mum?" called out Hugo's voice quietly from the door.

Motionless, Hermione kept her eyes closed. "Yes?" she asked.

"There was a bird at my window and this came with it. It's from Uncle Harry."

Hermione's eyes popped open as she shot upright, her hasty movement making Ron groan and grumble whilst he turned to his side, returning into his deep slumber with snores. She looked at her son; he had taken off his robes and trousers, leaving him in his briefs and undershirt, and in his hand was an envelope with the symbol of the Ministry in red wax. She hopped off her bed and nearly flew across the room to take the envelope from her son, already ripping it into shreds.

"What's it say? What's it say?" Hugo asked excitedly, bouncing from one foot to another.

Hermione went back to her spot on the bed with Hugo following her and jumping next to her as she brought out the letter, unfolded it, and she was greeted with the familiar and longed scrawl of the man who had been occupying her thoughts for the night. She dropped the torn envelope on her lap as she began to read:

 _Dear Hermione, Ron, Hugo_

 _Sorry I hadn't written any letters lately. I've been trying to get familiar with the area and setting up where to sleep. I found this nice little inn for wizards and witches who are traveling. I can't say where – safety purposes, I'm sure you'll understand._

 _Everything is alright over here. We still haven't found sight of Jugson or Yaxley yet. We finished searching Bozeman, Whitefish, and West Yellowstone. I have a couple of my officers stationed there in case either of those two show up. Tomorrow I'm going to Livingston. Supposedly that city never had any unusual activity there so it's a possibility. Aside from that, no other leads so far. I guess that's a good and bad thing._

 _Although during my search here, I passed by some nice local shops. I found this tribal shop called Miniatures and Collectables. Have any of you heard of that before? I never did. I guess it's a new store in the wizarding world. It has a lot of interesting artifacts and amazing souvenirs and a lot of other stuff. All of them have a nice meaning to it. I actually got a couple for you lot. Ron – I got you a Toki. The owner said it's a symbol of power, authority, and good character. Careful with the gem though, it's fragile. Hugo – I got you a model version of the Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon. It's actually the largest one known in the world but don't worry this one is just the size of your palm. And Hermione – a Koru. The owner said it represents peace, tranquility and spiritually. He said it's frequently used to represent the strength and purity of a loving relationship within a family. Figure you need something like that with everything that's going on which I hope is okay by the time I get back._

 _I hope you lot like your presents._

 _By the way, can Hedwig stay overnight? I'm sure she went off hunting somewhere sometime before she got there. Oh and can you change her back into an owl? I didn't want to risk giving away my position. I'm sure everybody knows what kind of owl I have. I would really appreciate it._

 _Anyway I have to go now. I promise I'll try to write often._

 _Harry_

 _P.S. Can you check to see if Lily and Ginny got my letter for them?_

Hermione smiled widely, almost looking idiotic, once she was done reading the letter. She finally got to hear from him – he was safe – he was unharmed – and he was alive. She was happy to be able to hear from him but a part of her was bothered by him for waiting so long to write to her. He should have written to her as soon as he was settled in the inn he found. Yet her anger cannot compete with her glee. The main thing she cared most was to hear from him and her wish came true tonight.

Just then, a ball of fire shot out from within the envelope, making Hermione shriek in shock, as it disappeared into a form of smoke. Beside her, Hugo quickly reached for the envelope and reached inside, his eyes widen in bewilderment when he saw he needed to proceed deeper until his whole arm was engulfed inside the small paper. Multiple objects were heard rattling within the paper as Hugo moved his arm continuously and then he pulled his arm out, his hand slightly enclosed into a loose fist. He dropped the envelope on the floor and he opened his hand; a green Toki, a white Koru, and the Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon rested on the young boy's hand. The small model creature was staring up at him and Hermione, its silver eyes glowering intensely like the strength of its scales.

"Wicked!" Hugo cheered.

"I thought he was joking," Hermione muttered while thinking, _I'm going to kill you when you get back, Harry James Potter!_

"Mum, this is awesome!" Hugo said happily as he watched the creature crawl up his arm. "I can't believe Uncle Harry got me a dragon for a pet!"

"You can't have a dragon for a pet," Hermione remarked, eyeing the dragon nervously as it reached up to her son's shoulder and rested on it snuggly. "Besides this is a model dragon. They're mostly used to roast food."

"I love him already," Hugo grinned. "I think I'll call him…actually I don't know what I should call him. What do you think, mum? Oh! Tell me something in Greek! That way, it will be original!"

"Hmm…how about Fotiá? It means fire."

"Fotiá…" Hugo looked at the dragon on his shoulder, a look of contemplation. "What about Scales?"

"Zygós."

"Nope. I'll stick with Fotiá then," Hugo concluded. He handed his mother the two objects from his hand and climbed off the bed. "I'm going to sleep now, mum. Good night!"

He sprinted out of the room before Hermione could say another word. Hermione sighed deeply, shaking her head. She would have to conjure up a tank for the model dragon when Hugo is asleep. She looked at the items in her hand. The one with the green gem can be assumed to be Ron's and she placed it on the nightstand. She will make sure he gets it by morning. Then she looked at her gift in wonder; the material was made out of bone, carved into a beautiful spiral that seemed like the inside of a whirlpool in the water. The cord was of a black wax braised into a loop around the pendant.

It looked too simply made which is how Hermione knew must have taken excellent patience and years of practice to be able to make such a piece of art. But the meaning of her gift is what has her heart swelling in euphoria. Even when he is miles away from her, unable to provide her the comfort of his arms or the reassurance of his words, he is still supporting her. Even though she was part of the reason why his daughter had cried, he still stood behind her in case she needed him to help her stay balanced from all the stress and hardships being thrown at her.

Hermione held the pendant to her chest, above where her heart was beating out to the man making it run mad, and bit her lip as she thought of his words in the letter; _Figure you need something like that with everything that's going on which I hope is okay by the time I get back._ She can literally hear him say them to her right now, see him do the quick sheepish shrug of his shoulders and the lopsided grin of his that could easily charm any woman he wanted to if he tried with feeling, and the small chuckle that comes along with it.

She can feel him. He was far but he is here at the same time with her. He is gone but she feels like he never left. He is like a mark that could not be erased to those he loves. And he does love her. He was reminding her.

 _Come home soon, Harry_ , she thought with eager hope and urgency to be able to have him in her arms again.

* * *

 **A:N:** Hope you all loved it. Oh darn, McLaggen never changes, does he? Oh well. By the way, tell me what you think about Gerald's character.

 **Please Review!**


	17. Old Chaps and Mates

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters and locations used in it, or the songs mentioned.

I am sorry for the delay. Been busy with jobs and applying to jobs and such. Reality came out of nowhere and kicked me real hard in the arse. I do hope you all like this little chappie. I dedicate it to all of you for being such wonderful people and coming this far in the story with me. It touches me in the heart, really.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _When the full moon turns white that's when I'll come home_

 _I am going out to see what I can sow_

 _And I don't know where I'll go and I don't know what I'll see_

 _But I'll try not to bring it back home with me_

\- Full Moon; The Black Ghosts

* * *

 _"Our willingness to wait reveals the value we place on what we're waiting on."_

\- Anonymous

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: Old Chaps and Mates**

The next few mornings, after she kissed Ron goodbye and drove Hugo to school, Hermione could not stop reading Harry's letter. She had taken it with her to her job and would keep it safe in her desk drawer. She would pause once in a while from signing violations and ownership permits to reread the letter twice before she returned to her work. She ran her fingers across the paper, feeling the dents where Harry may have pressed his quill harder. She pictured how he would be writing it – rapidly dipping the tip of the quill in the inkpot, maybe even accidentally snapping the quill and looking for a replacement, and sometimes the ink would splatter from the pot and onto the paper. It would explain the small dark dried ink spots. She could imagine the look of frustration, the crease between his knitted eyebrows, his pursed frown, and his face red out of annoyance. She knew if she had been there, she would have laughed; _If you think any harder, Harry, your head will erupt._

After, Hermione would admire her Koru that she has hanging on the picture frame of Rose and Hugo. She felt it was the best spot for it to have instead of her household. She has enough strength to pull her family together again and her family was pure that the pendant did not need it there to represent it; her children were the seal of her family. That is why she found the picture frame to be the perfect place for it to be. The sense of tranquility of her children living their lives smoothly and the peace of how everything was beginning harmonize wonderfully again, although in a slow pace, was coming from staring at the tribal pendant.

It was later, that she asked an international employer of the Ministry, Cherokee Aiyana, who was a descendent of a tribal clan, about the shop that Harry got the gifts from and she explained about how she had heard the shop had been vetoed a couple of times by the previous Minister but Kingsley had allowed it in mid-2015 to be built. The artifacts were enchanted to make the owner feel what it represents and she knew that Hermione was affected by the Koru because she never seemed frazzled over her overloaded paperwork.

Hermione's heart grew in fondness towards Harry; he must have known that she was holding too much burden on her shoulders in work and home that he felt the effects that brought from the Koru. It made her impatience for his return become tremendously vast.

Hermione savored in Ron's reaction towards his gift from Harry and then his behavior under the influence of the gem. She had been in the process of Ron's confidence growth through the years and she can see that him being in the Auror Program with Harry boosted up his spirit in his physical abilities in his dueling skills with all the proper and rough training, and when he retired to work with George in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he felt his fortitude was as equal as Hermione and Harry's knowledge combined, making him feel good about himself. But the Toki seems to have grown tenfold with the enchanted gem and he seem to have fallen in love with it as he takes it with him everywhere he is now.

She had checked on Ginny and Lily to see if they had received their letters like Harry requested. Apparently, he had gotten Lily a model version of the Hebridean Black like he did with Hugo and for Ginny, he got her a small deer statue made out of wood. It is told to be of lively and quick-witted, a perfect description of Ginny's personality. Hermione actually preferred Ginny's gift over the kid's because it will not cause any flammable incidents or possible to make any vandalism but after she transfigured environmental tanks for the small creatures, she felt neutral about it. She was still careful with the dragons whenever they are taken out to have a quick flight and a meal.

Hermione remembered how thrilled and sparky Lily was when she showed her the gift:

* * *

"Auntie! Auntie!" shouted Lily as soon as Hermione stepped through the door with Hugo in tow. She was cupping the small dragon in her hand, the tail curled around her thumb, and she held it up to her aunt's face as she jumped from foot to foot. "Daddy's letter finally came! I got it last night! Look at my gift! It's amazing! It's a baby dragon! Isn't it cute?"

Hermione leaned back a bit with an uncertain smile as she watched the small reptile cuddle deeper into Lily's calm and then snored lightly, breathing out small puffs of smoke through its nose. Its dark scales ridging along its back seem rough and its tail wrapped around Lily's thumb has an arrow-shaped spike that seem sharp enough to cut skin. It looked well at rest but at the same time it still holds the dangerous vibes of its nature.

"No way! A Hebridean Black!" Hugo grinned widely. He thrusts his hand up to meet Lily's eyes where he was holding his Ukrainian Ironbelly. "Uncle Harry got me one too! It's totally wicked!"

Ginny appeared from within the living room and smile invitingly once she saw the brunette witch watching the kids buzzing passionately over their gifts. She was dressed in her cotton shorts and Harry's old Quidditch jersey under her beige robe.

"So I'm guessing you got a letter too?" asked Ginny delightfully. She glanced at her nephew's hands. "Ooh, a Ukrainian Ironbelly. That's the most beastly dragon of them all."

"I know it is," Hermione murmured dryly, warily staring at the two dragons. She watched as the two kids spoke animatedly to the other about their gifts before they scurried into the living room, leaving her along with Ginny in the foyer.

"Cheer up, will you?" Ginny said. "At least it's not an actual dragon. The fire isn't real either. It can't do the same damage a real dragon does."

"Tell that to the damage it did to my curtains with its claws," Hermione remarked. "So what did Harry get you?"

"He got me this native carved deer," Ginny answered happily. "I'm just glad to finally hear from him. The anxiety was beginning to kill me."

"I know the feeling," Hermione chuckled as she rubbed her elbow.

"Do you want some tea?" Ginny insisted politely. "I've got a batch brewing right now."

"Yeah, tea would be nice. I have a feeling I'm going to be here for a while. This was supposed to be a short visit. I guess I'll have to go grocery shopping tomorrow."

The two witches laughed vigorously as they linked their arms and walked towards the kitchen area.

* * *

Hermione would smile at the memory. She and Ginny spoke about various topics that afternoon and the kids were too full of happiness playing their gifts together that Hermione did not have the heart to leave the house until it was around Hugo's curfew. She did not get to do her grocery list until the next day.

On a Thursday morning, Hermione woke up earlier than Ron or Hugo did. Her mind felt fresh from her dreamless night but her body ached and was sore from the uncomfortable position she found herself in; her body tucked within Ron's heavy arms, one of her arms used as a pillow by Crookshanks, one of her legs bend between Ron's, and her pillow had fallen to the floor leaving her neck to crane awkwardly to the mattress. It was painful when she had to force herself out of the spot and she ended up angering Crookshanks for disturbing his sleep.

The house was exceptionally quiet as she went downstairs, picked up the envelopes at the mail slot, and made her way to the kitchen, tying her robe. She took out a kettle and ignited the flame of the stove with her wand, quickly filled the kettle with water before placing it over the hot stove. She went to the refrigerator to take out eggs and bacon when she heard a flutter of wings at the window above the sink.

A barn owl, its chest heaving heavily with its deep breaths, carrying the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet_ and a small pouch attached to its leg. Hermione took the paper and reached inside the deep pocket of her robe for the amount of knuts she owed. She took out a bag of owl treat from a cabinet and produced a bowl of water, fed them to the wheezing owl, before the bird flapped its wings rapidly and took flight, soaring back into the rising sun. She returned to the stove and leaned against the edge as she unfurled the newspaper, instantly seeing the large, bold letters of the headline. She read the couple of lines of the first paragraph and she immediately glared.

 **Head Auror Authority Questioned: Are We Truly Safe?**

By Rita Skeeter

 _The world is still in shock after learning the death of the formerly famous Seeker of the Chudley Canons, Galvin Gudgeon, two weeks ago. The family of the victim are dreading for the day they will have to bury their son and brother and are impatiently waiting for the Auror in charge of the case [Harry Potter] to bring justice to the victim's brutal murder. The suspect charged for the Seeker's murder, Theodore Jugson, is still unheard of; no sights of his appearance has been spotted. The wizarding world has gone mad in fear by the lack of evidence and signs of no progress._

 _An exclusive statement from the Department of Auror junior level, Jerome Williamson, who has is in charge of keeping track in Auror Potter's investigation and tracking new leads towards the suspect._

 _Upon the process of Head Auror's process in the crime, Auror Williamson gave this statement: "I cannot give much detail of the investigation in this case, but I can guarantee that we are committed to our main priority and that is to capture Jugson and make him face justice. Chief Potter's intentions are to serve the laws rightfully as they should be and he will stop at nothing until he makes sure this bloke is taken down like the professional Auror he dedicated himself to be. That is all I have to say about this case."_

 _Despite Williamson's words referring to the long-term case, the parents of the murder victim like to differ. When asked for a comment of the case the father, Alfred Gudgeon, provided us with this statement: "I remember a time when the Magical Law Enforcement dedicated their lives for ours to keep us safe. They used solid evidence and unquestionable leads and get the right bloke. Cases never took so long and justice is served on the spot. Ever since Potter has been given the position of Head Auror and these Death Trials started, more crimes have been left unsolved, murders have been left unsolved, disappearances started happening more, and the safety of our world seem to have gone down to hell with him in charge. I wouldn't be surprised if the other Aurors are doubting Potter's authority as well. He may have been known as the hero who killed the world's darkest wizard of all time but it seems that's the only image he can handle. If he is more than just The-Boy-Who-Conquered then where is he? I think that says enough if people are asking for his whereabouts."_

 _Minister Kingsley, a supporter of the Gudgeon case, was not available to counteract._

 _With the case of Jugson running amuck along with the trial of Rowle only a few weeks away, suspension and fear takes over the wizarding world as the top treacherous criminals continue to live life free._

 _Further coverage on the Rowle case will be seen in in the afternoon edition with new statements from within the Ministry._

Hermione growled lowly once she finished reading. The kettle next to her began to whistle loudly and she quickly dropped the newspaper to take the kettle away from the stove then flicked the flame off. She had lost her appetite after reading that horrid article. She was already filled with the anger of the fact that her best friend has been ridiculed and disrespected worldwide. Although she was quite pleased to see that Harry still has support in his fight against the Death Eaters, she was ashamed to learn that people were doubting his authority as Head of the Auror Department because his case has been taken longer than expected and his intentions to keep the murder of a known Quidditch Seeker to maintain a calm atmosphere to the public. The death was not meant to be revealed to anyone outside the Gudgeon family and Hermione wanted to know who was brainless enough to let out the classified information.

Hermione went along to pouring her coffee and preparing her breakfast while her mind reeled around the words of the father of the deceased Seeker. She found him to be ungrateful and egotistic. She couldn't shake the feeling that he had chosen the statement as an opportunity to be in the limelight and tried to start a controversy with Harry. He had spat on Harry's authority as a horrible joke and a mistake by the law for giving him such a position of responsibility, crumbling his image into a shameful omen that will cause chaos to the wizarding world. And then the righteous wizard had the audacity to demand Harry's presence as if he was the Ministry himself when he did not know that Harry was traveling across the States searching for the man who killed Galvin. She cannot wait for the day Harry returns with the Death Eater in custody and prove every precarious follower of Afred Gudgeon.

Hermione carried her breakfast to the counter as she continued to reread the statements when she heard footsteps on the stairs and she looked up a minute later to see Ron emerging around the corner, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. He was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and his hair was a tangled mess.

"Morning," he mumbled sleepily. "Why are you up so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I got that meeting with Calvin today – the bloke I told you that has his own store," he replied as he stride forward to the counter and gave her a kiss on the cheek before he went to the kettle. "He's going to be leaving for Georgia in noon so I have to meet him around ten for an early breakfast and close the deal. If I get this deal, we'll be selling seventy-two percent around the world now."

"It's five in the morning," said Hermione distractedly, her eyes roaming over the same article continuously, as she took a sip of her coffee.

Ron looked at her strangely. "Which brings me to my earlier question. Why are _you_ up so early? You don't go in for work until seven."

"Paper," Hermione answered curtly.

Ron gave her a harden expression even though she cannot see him. He left his mug next to the kettle and approached her at the counter, pressing his hands on either side of her as he leaned over her head and read the headline. His eyes scanned over the first words of the article and he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Another one," he muttered. "Can't they give it a rest? People die all the time. I don't remember them writing a pity article for Fred or Remus or Tonks. But when a famous player is dead, the world goes into a frenzy."

"It's not just that," Hermione spat. "Look at what they're saying about Harry. They're practically mocking him."

Ron held the paper by the edge as he leaned closer. Hermione watched him while he read the portion about their best friend, noting that his eyes had become more awake with color then harden as he went on. When he reached the end of the paragraph, he threw the paper on the counter angrily, making the pages splay across and over the edge.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Ron roared. "Who the hell does that git think he is? Talking all high and mighty like he's some sort of king! I like to see him become an Auror and see what it's like! I know what it was like and it's no walk in the park! If he knew what Auror have to go through he wouldn't be talking so tough!"

Hermione glared at the paper. "You know what's worse? No one seems to defend Harry! So far only one spoke positively about him but it's been unsupported unlike that muppet. Not even the Minister said anything to Harry's favor and he knows about the case!"

"That's ridiculous!" Ron said. "Why wouldn't they vouch for Harry? He's the bloody Head of the AD! It can't be true that they're doubt him too."

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "But the way how everyone seems convinced in this article, it seems believable. The fuss this man is starting against Harry may turn into a worldwide phenomenon and if it continues to go like this – accusing Harry for all the undone crimes and such – he may lose his job."

"Kingsley wouldn't sack him," protested Ron.

"He will if he has to, Ron," Hermione said. "If he feels that the public is feeling skeptical about Harry being responsible for their safety then Kingsley will have to let him go to regain the trust of the people. They will find it as anarchy and will take matters into their own hands. It will be a civil war if that happens."

"Then what about Harry?" Ron questioned. "What will happen to him if they let him go? If they do that, the _Prophet_ will write about it, and then no one would want to hire him. People who are thrown out of the Ministry are given a bad reputation instantly – their name will be in mud."

"I know," Hermione said. She glanced at the paper. "Look, when I go to work I'll go directly to the Minister's office and see what I can do. Maybe I can convince him to give out a statement for the afternoon edition. Also I want to find out how the _Prophet_ is getting this information about the case. This Skeeter has an inside source in the Ministry and I know it's somewhere in the AD."

"Let me know who it is so I can give them a piece of my mind," Ron growled. He took the newspaper from the counter and stomped his way out of the kitchen, fuming.

"Ron," Hermione called out suspiciously as she followed his trail. "What are you planning to do? I know that face."

Ron stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Calm down, I'm not going to do anything drastic. I'm just going to go and talk to Ginny. See what she knows."

"Ron, I doubt your sister would be the source," Hermione said defensively. "Just because she works at the _Prophet_ doesn't mean she works with the likes of Skeeter. She's a correspondent in the sports section for Quidditch. I don't think she even knows about this."

"I wasn't thinking she's the one," Ron answered indignantly. "You said it yourself – she works there. Maybe she can find out who's giving all the information to Skeeter."

"But what about your meeting?"

"I got time," was Ron's response before he raced up the stairs, taking two steps as a time. Hermione grinned delightedly after him. It was always nice to see the protective behavior her two best friends have towards the other whenever one of them are in any exposure.

Then her grin curled down as she thought of Harry and fear shot through her for him. The _Daily Prophet_ is a worldwide newsletter from Asia to the Mediterranean and Washington to Europe; every witch and wizard will any access to world crisis must have read that distasteful article about Harry by now. She worried that if any magical being residing in Montana will recognize Harry, reveal his investigation, and he would lose trace of Jugson and Yaxley.

Hermione swallowed hard. A tight knot formed in her stomach, the same one she read the first article about Harry. It was profound than the previous one, almost making her double over by the tension tightened in her guts. Hermione shook her head, muttering a low reassurance to herself, _He will be okay. He will be okay,_ before she started to make her way upstairs for a much needed hot shower. She did not leave for work until two hours but she did not care. Her mind was consumed by Harry and his safety.

 _Harry will be okay. He has to be._

* * *

The Ministry has been known to be well-organized building that is quiet in areas working hard on their respective activities and to always be updated in any change or planned meetings among other departments. Everybody knew about everybody in what they're best at, at what they are poor at, and what they are learning to improve at. Members from different departments respected the other and would sometimes assist each other voluntarily. The building would be full of hurried feet, murmurs, loud chatters buzzing over the air of the busy walls, the atmosphere deranged with important schedules, assistants running late, and complete terror.

For the past nineteen years, the routine had learned to be prepared for the sudden shift that would submerge. It originally happens two to four times per month a year but it had decreased after six years and it would occur from time to time. It was not often like everybody dread it was but they knew it would be unlikely for it to end abruptly and they were right when a few occasions the shift can be heard shrieking across the corridor where the office of the Minister is located or steer clear from the path to the Head Auror's office. Everyone knew from the sound that any signs of an interruption was not an option.

Nobody wanted to be on the victim end of Hermione Granger's wrath.

Employers, at first, were astonished that a woman who looked plain and simple could contain such a rage that nearly resemble the absorbing hotness of a dragon's fire. They would not be surprise whenever Hermione would lash out at Harry for a ridiculous choice he made that may cause him harm or to another but when she was bold enough to act such a brass way towards Minister Kingsley, they were left speechless. They knew the two worked together to lift the pro-blood laws and gain equality for the house-elves yet they could not believe that she treated him like she did to Auror Potter. Overtime, they have seen how to handle Hermione in the state; no interruptions, no correcting her, and no attempts to prove her wrong. Those were the unwritten rules from her. The other was from any other person in the Ministry; clear a path for her wherever she went.

Currently, Hermione was stomping down the corridor of level one. Staff members watch her terrifyingly, being careful to not bump into her as they walked past her. Loud mumbles surfaced around her, some amused while others are concern, pairs of curious eyes followed her down the hall but she paid no attention to them. They were irrelevant – they were the many people who are going against Harry. She tightened her grip on the newspaper she brought with her from home after Ron left to see Ginny at her job. She pictured having Rita Skeeter's neck in her grasp.

Hermione was passing by the office of the Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic when a body came in her way, blocking her path to her destination, making her collide into the brick torso she knew was a man. She stepped back and glanced up to find herself being glared down by a pair of pale blue eyes through horn-rimmed glasses. She quickly returned the glare with stronger vitality after she saw the patches of greying hair that used to be vivid red and the bald spot.

"Percy," she murmured.

The ginger's lips twitched downward. "Counselor Granger."

"Oh dear, is that any way to greet your sister-in-law?" Hermione said sweetly. "No need to be so formal with me, Percy."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Percy sighed, "Hermione, I know where you're going and I'd advise you to go back to your department. Safe yourself from the trouble of causing unnecessary commotion."

"If you know where I'm going then you know why I'm going there," Hermione shot back.

"Which is why I'm telling you to turn back now," Percy retorted. "Minister Shacklebot is very busy right now with meetings with other Ministers and other classified -"

"Percy, I really don't give a bloody damn about his meetings and any other classified stuff he has planned today," Hermione interrupted as she stepped closer to her brother-in-law, her nose aligned with his Adam's apple while she stared up at him stonily. "I'm going to talk to Kingsley and you're not going to stop me, okay. You've known me for twenty-six years so you know how I am when it comes to Harry or Ron. If it was one of your brothers being exposed this way, you would do the same thing I'm doing."

"Hermione, I know that article was wrong for attacking Harry the way they did, and I do understand where you coming from – I really do," Percy said calmly. "As of now, the whole Ministry is under a search to find the mole giving the _Prophet_ the information. If you barge in there now while this person is still in here, you'll be giving them more for the papers. We can't have any more activities in here leaking out to the media."

"And _I_ can't have the media printing out more false words about Harry when he is literally risking his life daily to keep those ungrateful people safe," Hermione retorted. "Therefore, you stay out of my way and let me talk to Kingsley. He's way more involved in this than you know."

"Counselor Granger, if you even make a move further I will have security escort you out!" Percy said firmly in a tone that shook those who passed by them and bystanders to become stiff under his mere presence.

"Is that a threat or a promise, Mr. Weasley?" challenged Hermione. She can see a small crowd beginning to form around them, interested eyes watching their heated exchange, quiet whispers of bets being made, but she did not pay any attention to them. She can feel her free hand itching to pull out her wand from her sleeve and paralyze her brother-in-law yet she kept herself in check as she told herself that Percy's words are true; the mole is still in the building and they could be writing down what is occurring at the moment.

Percy narrowed his eyes. "Hermione-" he started to warn but then a deep voice broke through the low buzz of the crowd, cutting him short.

"That's enough!" boomed the recognizable voice of Minister Kingsley. The small crowd parted respectfully as the dark skinned man made his way toward the center of their attention, a deep frown carved on his face that made the employers to shrink back in nervousness. His eyes immediately settled on Percy and Hermione, who were still locked on their hard stares, their faces sharing a matching scowl, and are somewhat red in frustration.

Hermione broke her gaze on the redhead and shifted towards Kingsley, the hardness in her eyes becoming greater as she watched him approach them in a gentle manner.

"Mr. Weasley, Counselor Granger," Kingsley addressed them. "Is there something the matter here?"

Percy broke out his stare and quickly turned to the Minister with an apologetic look. "Minister! I was just explaining to Counselor Granger about your busy schedule and, seeing as you're a busy man, I was about to escort her back to her department."

"By force," added Hermione.

"I truly apologize for this inconvenience, sir. I'll send her back to her chambers now," Percy continued. He made a move to grab Hermione by the elbow but she quickly swatted his hand.

"I am not leaving, Percy," Hermione sneered, her eyes never leaving Kingsley. "I need to talk to you," she told him. "I can assume you know what about."

"I was expectant of it," Kingsley said. He turned to Percy. "Mr. Weasley, I appreciate your attempt to keep things in order at a time like this but I need to remind you that whenever Counselor Granger comes to visit me personally, my schedule is automatically clear. No reason for her visits are irrelevant. Today is also as acceptable as any other time."

"Yes sir," Percy nodded, his cheeks tinted pink.

"If you may, Counselor Granger," Kingsley stepped aside and gestured a hand down the corridor. "My office?"

Hermione strides forward. "With pleasure."

"Oh, and Mr. Weasley, you may go back to your business," Kingsley said. "Make sure you've searched every angle of the entire place. As soon as you found the mole, bring him or her to my office. I would love to have a word with them."

"Will do, Minister," said Percy quickly before he turned and began to disperse the crowd, demanding them to return to their posts. Hermione secretly smirked in triumph to see how frazzled his movements are; she had no doubt she'll be hearing about this the next time she visits her in-laws.

Hermione and Kingsley remained quiet during their walk to his office with Kingsley occasionally acknowledging those who greet him a good morning and he would sometimes be distracted with an assistant of his reminding him of a scheduled meeting with a department or a trip he needed to take overseas for a national conference. Hermione never spoke throughout the journey. Her mind was consumed about Harry; did he know? Was he okay? What is he thinking? What is he feeling? Hermione did not doubt that he probably felt betrayed by the same people he dedicated himself to protect and she would not blame him for being mad.

Kingsley did not attempt to start a heart-felt conversation with her like he always does and she knew he knew she was not feeling lighthearted. She was too in deep with her anger and frustration to find the capacity to not snap the next person who called out to her. She was surprised herself by her behavior towards Percy – he and her have their moments when they would clash but they would try to solve out their differences without disrespecting the other like she did to him now. Yet she knew her reasons were understandable because they involved Harry and everyone knew that if she did not approve of what has his name written in it, she will become the polar opposite of herself. Percy knew that and yet he was bold enough to face her.

Hermione did not know how long she has been lost in her thoughts. She realized at some point that she and Kingsley had arrived in his office, and she found herself sitting on the chairs in front of his desk whilst he stared out of the enlarged window.

"I'm assuming you're here about the article?" he asked, breaking the tense silence between them.

Hermione shot up from the chair and glared at his back. "Yes! What is this?" She held up the newspaper, the dark letters of the headline in the open. "Not only are these people attacking Harry but you did nothing to defend him. How come?"

Kingsley sighed. "I had very good reason. I don't think you will like it."

"That is something I can agree with you," Hermione growled. "Explain, Minister."

"Alright, I'll keep it short," Kingsley turned to face her, an impassive expression masking over his eyes as he stared at her intently. "I cannot defend him."

"Why?"

"Because this is the second article about him. When the first one came out, I was able to explain that Harry wanted to spare the Gudgeon family and when he was ready to tell them, he would have had Jugson in custody. Although fans of Gudgeon are livid towards Harry, it kept the public at ease when they understood Harry's intentions. I was able to defend him because of that. But in this article – no word I say can protect him."

"Why not?"

"Because they have cold facts this time – not just facts but supportive ones in favor to the public than to Auror Potter's." Kingsley walked around his desk to stop in front of Hermione and took the paper from her hands. "Unfortunately, Gudgeon's father said those facts and it makes me wonder what other people are thinking – if they're having the same thoughts as him. I don't doubt that after this, people are. You won't believe the amount of hate mail I've gotten after this was published."

"All of this wouldn't be happening if you had just said something," Hermione retorted. "You not defending Harry makes it seem like they're right."

"And what can I say to defend him? Enlighten me," Kingsley said. "I don't know what he is doing at this moment – I don't know what he found – I don't know if Jugson is still in Montana like Harry said he is. I don't even know what are his intentions are anymore. I was able to say what I said the first time because Harry explained to me and I understood because I was an Auror myself. But now? After reading this, I'm beginning to question him as well. Everything in the article is true – unsolved crimes, murders, disappearances. Hardly missed a beat."

"Death Trials," said Hermione. "All those cases are related to Death Eaters and Snatchers – the same people Harry is trying to capture. You know that."

"That's still no excuse. They're still open cases," Kingsley remarked. "I don't want to believe it either, Hermione, but the public is right about Harry. Ever since he's been appointed the position of Head Auror, crimes have been out of control. I don't think his head is in it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Are you seriously doubting Harry?"

Kingsley pressed his lips in a hard line and Hermione was appalled.

"Unbelievable!" she huffed. "You're doubting Harry! How could you?"

"Hermione, times have changed if you haven't already noticed," Kingsley said. "Law is different now – the people have changed. The era of _"The-Boy-Who-Lived"_ is over. Harry is the same as you and me – a mere memory of the past. Right now – in this very present – I have to make harder choices to keep things on track no matter who's life is ruins or who's it improves. If it means to keep everything settled and organized the way they always are then I will do it."

"So you rather risk putting Harry's name in mud because a bunch of ungrateful, vial people are too selfish to see all the good he's done?" Hermione demanded. "He captured Amycus! If he hadn't gotten him then he wouldn't have gotten the lead on Jugson – he wouldn't have found out about Gudgeon's death – we wouldn't have found the missing evidence we needed for the Rowle case and he would have been scott free!"

"And for all that to happen, a wizard had to die," Kingsley pointed out. "How many more have to die just to follow more leads? - Twenty? - Fifty? - A hundred? And how many leads are there until a suspect is captured? That's all that's been happening ever since Harry became Head Auror."

"Those things started to happen before Harry was even considered for the position," said Hermione. "Those people are wrong. They're just angry and scared. They're pointing all the blame to Harry because he's an easier target and you know it. Tell me there hasn't been a time when you were an Auror that people never accused you for the wrong things because of the same reasons."

Kingsley sighed. "My times were simpler. Laws were actually followed so people wouldn't lose their lives. Lord Voldemort was alive and also we were in the middle of a war. There is no excuse for Harry's mistakes."

"Oh, so because there's no dark wizard wreaking havoc to the world, it's fine to just kick Harry while he's down?" Hermione gritted her teeth, her jaw clenched tightly. "Last time I remember, you were proud to walk with Harry through one of the darkest times in history with no questions asked or any complaints. Now you're turning your back on him all because of a bunch of people who don't know what it's like to even do his job. It seems to me that it isn't that time has changed – it's you!"

"Counselor Granger-"

"Harry hasn't changed a bit," Hermione continued. "He changed the ways of the law and no one likes it because he's doing it his way. You're right that times have changed but the people surely haven't. Everyone are still the same pompous, unappreciative, disloyal lot they were before. Maybe you don't like the change Harry has done because he could be doing his work better than you did when you were an Auror."

"That's enough, Granger!" Kingsley suddenly bursts out, his eyes wide in rage. He slammed the paper down on his desk, the force making the objects shake and tumble. "Like I said – times have changed – I cannot defend Harry for his choices any longer – and if this continues on any longer, I will have to take drastic measures and suspend you of your duties and relieve you from the case!"

Hermione clamped her mouth shut but her eyes were burning red into his skull, the intensive stare giving Kingsley such an impact that he needed to lean against his desk. He still has an emotionless face yet Hermione did not care she cannot see if she is giving any effect on him; she knew he was feel all of her hatred, betrayal, and disbelief he is causing to her. Her common sense was thrown away the moment she knew about the public was beginning to turn against Harry out of fear. But then she thought of her kids and all rationality was brought back into her – she cannot lose the job that helps her provide all the things her children needs and the safety she suffered for no matter how much she loved Harry. She cannot cause another rift in the family over her blind anger.

"Let me put out a statement," she insisted. "I'll talk to my sister-in-law to set up an interview with one of the reporters and defend Harry's name."

"What good will that do?" Kingsley asked. "No one will take your word seriously if you're related to him. You're the best friend of the Head Auror. And also, it will make it seem like we're hiding something for him. How do you think that will look?"

"I have to do something," Hermione retorted, her tone impatient. "I can't just sit back knowing this is happening. There has to be something I can do to at least tame this."

"There's nothing," Kingsley said. "I'm sorry, Hermione. But it's like I said; Harry's time is over. Nobody cares who he is or what he did for them. This is a new generation. To them – he's just a story they tell their kids and grandchildren. All everyone cares is about themselves, getting the new things, drugs, and sex. That's the reality of today. There's no heart."

Hermione stayed silent as she registered Kingsley's words. The world had indeed changed as generations came. Children hardly spend time outside their houses during the days before they get their first wand. Computers, phones, game consoles, video games, and Internet are a child's passion as they live life as a Muggle. Parents who are survivors of the war or grandparents would speak about the events of the Second Wizarding War as bedtime stories, making the kids believe that it was another fairytale. They outgrow the legend like they do with Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. They learn to not care what had been done as they live in the now and gain everything or anything that are unnecessary.

But Hermione did not see that. It was not because she was part of the twentieth century, but because she cannot see Harry as a passing phase like any other legend. She can't imagine the mark of peace Harry put on the world being erased by generations of advanced technology, potions, spells, and toy products. He was practically the symbol of hope and strength that people nowadays find through their hard times. His story cannot just be forgotten in a blink of an eye.

Without another word, Hermione snatched the newspaper from Kingsley's desk and marched towards the exit. She can hear Kingsley let out an audible sigh of defeat as soon as she touched the doorknob.

"Hermione-"

"You're wrong," Hermione intervened, never turning to face him or removed her hand from the knob. Her grasp on the newspaper became tighter, the paper crinkling under her piercing nails. "Harry is the heart of all this. And if it weren't for him, the world would have been in chaos before he was made an Auror. It certainly was before he was born. Everything that has happened is nothing compared to what Harry has seen."

Then she yanked the door open and left the office.

* * *

Hermione was still seething when lunchtime came around. She was in awe to learn that Kingsley doubts Harry – his most trusted, talented, and hard-working employer and outstanding Auror of the century – and she felt disgusted throughout her conversation with him. She cannot believe that he, the most who showed his distaste towards any sleazy reporter of any sorts of the media, was agreeing to their repulsive words of shame and fraud. She knew what she said about the public was true; they were scared and angry. Putting blame on another is easy, especially if that person was the one in charge of a division who dedicate themselves to protect the local and the innocent. She was more in love at the fact that her department was to provide health and shelter to magical creatures instead of wizards and witches; she cannot work for people who make her feel used. She wondered if Harry felt like that sometimes.

Julie accompanied her to the Leaky Cauldron; her assistant wanted to make sure she did not end up being confronted by any of the people who have turned against Harry and demanded her for him to quicken his pace or to give her any deadly threats. Hermione felt like she was back to her teen years when the Order would keep a watchful eye on her throughout the war and she hardly had privacy in her time. She was not surprise that the news of her recent discussion with Kingsley had already traveled across the Ministry – it ran faster than the Rumor Mill in Hogwarts, if possible. She hoped it will be long before the news ended up printed for the world. She never did and never will trust the editors of the _Daily Prophet_ to write any story of her accurately without her knowing.

As she and Julie ate their platter, Hermione explained her encounter with Kingsley to the dirty blonde witch.

Julie whistled in astonishment. "I heard about your anger but to hear it coming from the source itself is a whole new story. I'm surprised you didn't get sacked."

"I was close," Hermione mumbled. "I set him off and he was going to take me off the case."

"Blimey," Julie gasped softly. "If he had done that then Bernard would have taken over. Damn git has too much ego and he would have improvised instead of following your evidence."

"What a nightmare that will be," Hermione said. "A mockery our department would be if we lost a case this important. And think of the riot in the public. They're already blind in anger towards Harry for his crimes and if we had lost a case to a criminal responsible for nearly half of those rapes and murders."

Julie shuddered. "Chaotic."

"A massacre."

"A blood bath."

"A worldwide destruction."

"Okay, you win," Julie chuckled, shaking her head. "You and your bloody vocabulary. I swear you're a walking dictionary."

Hermione smirked and took another piece of her platter, shoved it in her mouth, then chewed.

"So what are you going to do?" Julie asked.

Hermione swallowed then sighed, "I honestly don't know. I know for a fact that Kingsley will have someone breathing down my neck for now and he will be keeping his eye on the papers in case I try to make any statements on Harry's defense. No doubt he chose Percy since he's the closest person to me through family. I can't risk doing anything to pull me off this case – I can't live knowing that bloke wins. But at the same time, I can't stay still. Harry's name is being dragged in dirt and it's unfair."

"I'm surprised his wife hasn't said anything about this," said Julie. "I expected her to defend him."

"She probably doesn't know," Hermione replied. "She doesn't pay any attention to what Rita Skeeter writes. She and her don't exactly see eye to eye, obviously. But I know for a fact she should know about it right now. I hope she hexes her."

"Wow, tell me how you really feel, Granger. Please, don't hold back," Julie retorted sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Hermione smirked and took another bite out of her platter.

"Ron went to talk to her about it," Hermione said. "He thinks she could help find out who's giving Skeeter all of this information. It was smart of him to come up with that – having both ends will help bring the source down quicker. But it will be hard for Ginny. I have no doubt the others of the _Prophet_ are praising for her success in getting a new story that could be sold for millions of galleons and are supporting her in any way. I don't want Ginny to get sacked for this."

Julie patted the brunette's shoulder. "You worry too much about the small stuff. This is the wife of Harry Potter we're talking about here. That's saying something."

A constrictive pang shot through Hermione when Julie spoke. She was surprised to feel the sudden tightening in her chest, directly where her heart laid, almost as if it was shriveling up and shrinking into oblivion. Her hand unconsciously presses itself to where it was hurting her, as though rubbing it would soothe the ache away and her face scrunches up a little as the sensation refuses to disappear, but instead turned into a low, dull throb whilst her heart beats.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" asked Julie worriedly; Hermione soon remembers she is with her. "You look like you're in pain."

"I'm fine," Hermione lied briskly. She pushed her platter away from her. She ignores the anxious looks she can see her assistant was giving her from the corner of her eye. "The food must have not settled in right. I'll live."

"Okay," Julie said slowly, her voice uncertain and suspicious.

"Anyway," Hermione coughed. "I guess you're right about the whole Ginny thing. She is a stealthy bint, that one. On certain occasions she got past me."

"For what?"

"Smuggling sweets and trying to find my Christmas presents for her," Hermione said, chuckling. Then her mind went through her memories of family holidays; kids trying to sneak a couple of cookies, Ron trying to wrap the presents, Ginny sneaking around at every corner that seem possible to where her present may be hidden, Molly and Arthur cooking dinner with her parents, and then Harry setting up the Christmas tree with the Weasley brothers. She frowned when she pictured Harry's infectious grin and contagious laughter then she let out another sigh.

"What is it now?" Julie inquired.

"Just thinking of Harry," Hermione answered sadly.

"Hermione, this whole thing will blow over sooner than you know it," Julie reassured her. "Besides, Harry is a tough wizard. I doubt a couple of hate words will bring him down. Wait for a week later, a story about some brawl in Diagon Alley makes the news and everyone will be too busy criticizing that."

"It's not that, it's just," Hermione hesitated, fiddling with the a loose string from the sleeve of her blouse, as she gnawed her teeth into her bottom lip. "I…miss him."

"Oh." Julie stared at her in sympathy. She gave Hermione's shoulder another pat. "Didn't you get a letter from him a few days ago?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but it's not the same. I'm so used to Harry being around twenty-four-seven. Seeing him when I clock in – sometimes when I'm dropping off Hugo to school – We always had lunch together and then we leave home together. I know it's only been two weeks since he left but…it feels too long for me. I don't know. It just doesn't feel the same without him here. Right now, he would be telling me a story about how he's patronizing Lily." Hermione added with a weak chuckle.

Julie pursed her lips. "Maybe it's a good thing that you two are separated for a while. Remember that article they did about you and him? Some people still talk about it."

"No doubt that source was following us and took that picture," Hermione growled. "Making us seem like we're having an affair. Honestly. This person must have been so desperate for money to sell something as low as that."

"It caused a lot of problems for you and Harry?"

"It doesn't matter anymore, it's been fixed. Thank you for putting out that statement, by the way. You helped make it seem like not everyone sees us as more than friends and it put off a little bit of the fire. But I'm just more concern about this source."

"Don't worry about it." Julie waved it off. "Let the others focus on that. Kingsley already has people searching the area for them and your husband has his sister keeping an eye out at her workplace. This person got nowhere to go now."

"In the meantime, I'll try to come up ways to make sure Harry's name isn't being trashed," Hermione added.

"But you can't," Julie said. "Not with Kingsley watching over you."

"I'll find a way," Hermione retorted. "There's always a flaw in the system."

"Isn't that what Gerald always says about every case?" Julie questioned with a light giggle. "Don't tell me his methodical ways are rubbing off on you now."

"Only that one," Hermione chuckled.

Then the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron, Hannah Longbottom, came to the two witches with a tray of cool glasses of butterbeer, the foam leaking over the rim a bit. She placed the two glasses on the bar surface.

"Thanks Hannah," said Hermione. "How's Neville? I wasn't able to see him when I went to Hogwarts."

"He's doing well," Hannah answered casually. "Only two kids were sent to the Hospital Wing this week for not wearing their protective gloves. First years never learn, do they?"

"No, they never do," Hermione smiled. "I hope those two students are nowhere related to me."

Hannah laughed, "No, they're not. Rose and Albus are very attentive in his class so you have nothing to worry about. One of them was Malfoy's son. I don't remember his name."

"Scorpius," Hermione sighed. "I pray that there is nothing competitive between Rose and him. Ron encouraged her to always be on top of every class before she left."

"From what Neville told me in his last letter, I think they are," Hannah said. "Sometimes he pairs them in an assignment just for laughs but lately Rose doesn't seem to be bothered by Scorpius and Neville is not sure if he should be worried about it or not. He's even considering to talk to you or Ron about it."

"Is she okay?" Hermione asked worriedly. She can feel her heart spring up to her throat.

"She's fine, Hermione," Hannah said reassuringly. "She's not hurt or anything. I'm sure Neville is just putting too much thought into it. He described her to be _'too calm'_. I'm sure that's nothing bad."

"Too calm," Hermione repeated. "How long has she been that way?"

"I got the letter sometime around last week."

"I see."

Hermione smiled to herself. She felt happiness spark in her. It had been a week since she had spoken to Rose and they had come to an unofficial mutual agreement to not speak to each other until the fated date to not taint Rose's choice in forgiving her. Hermione would hear about Rose's activities through the letters she still sends to Ron but she never heard about how she is feeling ever since they spoke. She did not keep her hopes up thinking that Rose was now calmer in school because of her but it was a huge possibility and Hermione felt ecstatic at the thought of her being able to make her daughter to feel that way.

"I'm glad to know she isn't pushing herself too hard," Hermione said a minute later. "She really needs a break once in a while. She is only a kid still."

"How are you two able to have children?" Julie asked incredulously. "I can't even last a minute being in the same room as one. Demented little ones, they are."

Hermione frowned disapprovingly, arching a warning brow at the blonde. She knew that Julie was speaking indirectly about Hugo. She never liked him ever since the first time she had dinner with her family. Even though it was many years ago, Hermione thinks Julie still held a grudge towards Hugo for the time he got gum stuck in her hair and she needed to cut a large chunk off. Hugo did drop the gum in her hair on purpose, not because he hated Julie, but because he distrusts her. He said he found her too friendly and too perfect. Hermione assume that perhaps Hugo had a small crush on Julie; she learned it was a phase kids sometimes go through when she had a crush on Lockhart. She cannot blame him for it; Julie was a gorgeous woman despite her age.

"Julie," Hermione said firmly. "That's my son you're talking about."

"I didn't mention his name," Julie quipped.

"It was implied," said Hermione. "It was one time – let it go."

"My hair isn't the same since then! You try cutting your hair off and tell me how you feel," Julie remarked with a scoff.

Hermione and Hannah rolled their eyes. Hermione took a sip of her butterbeer and wiped the foam with a napkin.

"You try to have your front teeth hexed to grow like a pair of a beaver's and then tell me how you feel. Oh, and they were already buck-teeth so the hex makes them twice the length," Hermione added with a smirk. She can see Hannah stifling her laughter, shaking her head. She had no doubt Hannah knew she was referring to her fourth year when Harry and Draco had a small duel and Draco gotten her with a hex accidentally. The rumor of that incident ran through Hogwarts after the duel was over and everyone learned that her teeth were shrunk into a normal size.

"Sheesh, what kind of childhood you lived?" asked Julie astonishingly.

"A very long one," Hermione mumbled, seeing Hannah nod in agreement with her.

"Amen to that," Hannah said; Hermione held up her butterbeer to her before she took a sip.

The chime of the small bell hanging above the front entrance rang as the door opened and entered Ginny, who had a grim expression in her bright brown eyes, followed closely by a woman with bleach blonde hair that was all too familiar to Hermione. They scanned the area momentarily before Ginny spotted Hermione and immediately approached her, the blonde wordlessly trailing behind her. It wasn't until they were a mere few feet from her that Hermione recognized the dreamy face of the blonde belonged to Luna Lovegood.

"We need to talk," Ginny said as soon as she was close to Hermione and sat on the empty stool beside her.

"You don't need to say anything, I already know what's going on," Hermione responded. Her gaze flickered to Luna, who remained standing. "Luna! It's so great to see you!" she said as she stood from her stool and gave the blonde a kind, welcoming hug. "Last time I saw you, you were leaving for a trip to look for another creature you discovered."

"Snout pixies," Luna answered. "Very dangerous. They can lure you in with their adorable appearance but they will morph their mouth into a dragon's snout and chomp your hand off with a bite. They also cause high fever if they're close. You haven't been feeling peaky at any moment, have you?"

"Not at all," Hermione answered hesitantly. Although she had accepted Luna's perspective in life and has learned to be more open-minded of the impossibilities in life after she saw the Thestrals, she is still wary of some of Luna's ways. Some she still find to be ridiculous and highly illogical but she dared not waste her breath and argue with Luna about it. She has her beliefs while Luna has hers.

"If you do then come to me," Luna said. "That's when they're most hungry and they're probably hiding in a bush."

"Noted." Hermione turned to a fidgeting Ginny and sat back on her stool next to her. "So you've heard of Harry, I assume?"

Ginny scoffed. "How can I not? It's all everyone is talking about in the _Prophet_. And when they're not talking about it in front of me, they're looking at me all murderously wherever I walk. Some are even laughing at me for being the wife of the most hated man of the public."

"Hated?" Hermione repeated in disbelief. "I've heard that everyone are displeased and a bit angry at Harry but I didn't think they could possibly hate him."

"But they are," Ginny said shamefully.

"You want me to give you something to drink, Ginny?" Hannah asked politely, already reaching beneath the bar for a glass. "On the house, of course," she added.

Ginny smiled at her gratefully. "Thanks. I'll have a firewhiskey on the rocks with a drop of boggling berries."

Hermione cringed. She had heard of boggling berries, even had a taste of it herself, and she knew that the effects of it were mutual. Boggling berries had been discovered in 2008 by a group of florists in worldwide known mountain in Hong Kong, Victoria Peak. According to their experience to eating the berries, they were left in a hazy and drowsy state, almost like a drunken man is at a bar. Factories and companies bought the berries under a contract to letting the Asian wizards to receive discount for them growing on their lands. The berries were tested out for various food, beverages, and hair products but they were able to settle in mixing them in alcohol because it increases the effects of the fruits as well as the taste of the drink. It was a best-seller among adults and rebellious teenagers.

Hannah hesitated. "Are you sure? That's quite a heavy drink."

"I need it," Ginny said. "I took an early day so might as well."

"I'll have one too," Julie added.

Hermione looked at her disapprovingly. "You're not drinking anything. You don't have an early day today."

"Can I ask for one now?"

"No. Besides you already have a drink."

Julie groaned. " _Fine_. I'll have glass of ice then."

Hannah nodded and was about to step away when Hermione beckoned her to her. She leaned closer to the brunette, both of them watching the ginger witch who has her head hung.

"Make sure to put salt around the rim," Hermione whispered into Hannah's ear. "Lesser chance for her to get totally knackered."

"Will do," Hannah replied quietly, then gave Ginny another solemn glance, before she turned and left to the backroom.

"So how did you find out?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Ron," Ginny said. "I haven't even opened the paper when he suddenly apparated in my kitchen. Scared the wits out of Lily too. He started cursing out people from my job, basically going at it like a mad man, until I shut him up with the Silencing Spell and told him to explain to me what's going on. When he showed me the article about Harry, I was devastated. I couldn't believe they did that. Right under my nose too."

"I knew you didn't know a thing," Hermione responded honestly. "You wouldn't have allowed it."

"Of course I wouldn't allow it!" Ginny suddenly yelled out; Luna was quick to place her hands on Ginny's shoulders and keep her firmly on the stool. From the corner of Hermione's eye, she can see several customers glance at their direction. "It's about trashing my husband and his good name. How can I allow that?"

"So you don't have any idea who could be giving out the information?" Hermione asked.

"No but I may have an idea on a few who could be getting the information. I know Rita and she will not get things directly unless necessary," Ginny said. "I have my eyes on Burton. He's always been against Harry ever since 2003. Remember that time you, Harry, and Ron took that trip to Germany? He hasn't been fond of Harry since then because he broke his camera."

Hermione nodded. She could not forget. It was made as an unofficial tradition for her, Ron, and Harry to take trips outside of Britain on the day of the war after they pay their respects to those who died. Neither of them want to remember what had been lost but they will always remember why they cannot recall anything the next day and they rather have it like that then to be swallowed whole in the pit of self-regret, despair, and pity. Their routine started the year after the war when the dreaded date came, she and Ron chose to go away to South America and they invited Harry along. From there on, they chose different places to visit as every year passed by.

"Then there's Anderson – he took rather a fancy to me and a horrible dislike towards Harry when he visit me at work one time. He probably have moved on but sometimes he gives hints that he might still be interested in me that way. Marcelo is another one who could have done it – you know they always say to be careful with the quiet ones and sometimes he writes articles of things we never heard him get. Thompson has always hated Harry for such stupid reasons – Harry never accepted an interview from him because of his reputation. It's not as bad as Skeeter's but enough to not make him seem trustworthy. He's been downgraded to post boy for his lack of news. And lastly, there's Marcus – she never liked Harry. I never knew why. I always thought she was just jealous because you know how after the war loads of witches practically threw themselves at Harry. But after a while, I just realized she never liked him as a person in general."

"Is there anyone in the _Prophet_ who doesn't hate the bloke?" Julie asked dubiously. "No wonder his name is in vain."

"Harry has a rather long history with them," Hermione mumbled. She shook her head. "Do you think it's possible you can see if maybe one of them are getting information?"

"How do you expect me to do that?" Ginny inquired. "I can't just sneak off to their section of the building all freely as I like. Burton is in photography – Anderson is in politics – Marcelo is behind the postboards – Marcus is in the gossip column - I'm in the sports division. The only time where we all are together is in the break room. Even then, we don't speak more than two words, not even about what we write in our articles."

"You have to try," Hermione urged. "We already have people in the Ministry searching for this mole and if you're searching on the receiving line of this whole scandal then we'll have a bigger chance to catching them."

"I get what you're saying, Hermione, I do. I want to catch this git more than anyone," Ginny said. "But you're asking for the impossible. I can't go in a section I'm not assigned in. Even under Polyjuice, I can't sneak past their doors. A protection ward has been set on them after some other company tried to sneak in to steal our stuff three years ago. No spell can get through."

"Not even Disillusionment Charms?" asked Luna.

"No."

Hermione growled lowly. "There has to be some way to find this person. One of those sections are getting into the Ministry. Someone in the _Prophet_ is under Skeeter's payroll to receive the information and give it to her. Can't you see what she's doing at least?"

"She has her own office – top floor," was Ginny's response. Hermione lets out a groan and slams her fist on the bar surface as she exhales through her nose, causing the glasses and plates to rattle. Julie held them still.

"She is very thorough," Luna said. "She must have known that her secret was about to come out if she makes it this impossible to trace her collector. She must have also offered a great amount to galleons to get someone from inside the Ministry as well. No one who works from the inside would do that."

"Unless it's someone who isn't from the Ministry," Hermione retorted. "Anything considered as treason will bring their name in mud and imprisonment. Look what happened to Umbridge. She is known as one of the most terrible woman in all of the wizarding world for harming students with her blood quills, harsh treatment to Muggle-borns, and involvement with Voldemort. Azkaban is more like her fortress rather than a prison tower from the people who want to kill her."

"She had it coming," Ginny said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it isn't someone from the Ministry. But then that means it can't be from someone in the _Prophet_ too. If treason is bad for an employer in the Ministry then the consequences are no good for anyone outside of it. Who in their right mind would risk their lives for a couple of galleons?"

"A greedy, self-absorb, pompous, little fu-"

"Language, Hermione," Julie smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying. It's someone who has nothing to lose."

Hannah returned from the backroom with a glass of firewhiskey mixed boggling berries, another filled with ice, and placed it in front of Ginny and Julie. It had a layer of salt coated around the rim like Hermione request to her relief. In her other hand was a bottle of the beverage, the violet-white twist seen slowly whirling into a twist.

"Figured you might need more than one round," Hannah explained, noticing the bewildered expressions of the three women gave her while Luna remained the same.

"Cheers," murmured Ginny before she took a quick swing of the beverage, slightly cringing. Hermione knew she was already going through the aftertaste. The burning sensation would be gone as soon as it comes in the throat and it did not give one a chance to savor the flavor behind the liquor. That is how many end up passed out after two shots.

"Boggling berries," Luna said. "We use those whenever we need to lure in a creature. Not many know what they are yet and curiosity is their worst weakness."

"S.P.E.W. has them too," Hermione remarked. "If a creature is on a rampage and we can't get close to them, we'd put the berries in their food. Makes it easier to give them their medicine."

Ginny took the bottle and poured the liquid in the glass before she downed it in one gulp. She shuddered and groaned, licking her lips to take in the taste of salt.

"You know Ron and Harry used to use them for interrogations," Luna said.

"I remember," Ginny chuckled. "Getting the suspects completely knackered to get them to confess. They had to stop using it because some members of the suspect's families were threatening to sue them for deliberately violating their rights of speech and for using alcohol as a way for conversation."

A thought struck in Hermione and her eyes widen. "That's it!"

Ginny and Luna blinked at her whilst Julie and Hannah watched her in amusement. Hermione took the bottle of mixed firewhiskey, staring at the swirl with a twinkle in her eyes that meant mischief and danger. The smile she was wearing was holding many intentions that leaves other in wonder to what she has in mind.

"What kind of drinks are allowed in the _Prophet_ breakroom?" she asked.

"Mainly caffeine and juice," said Ginny. "Energy drinks are stocked sometimes."

"But some smuggle in some alcohol," Hermione spoke. "There's always that one person who does."

"It would most likely be Marcus. The postboard is where we get our deliveries and food orders loaded in. No doubt he takes advantage of that to sneak some pints of elfwine and dragon beer. He smells a lot like it during breaks."

"Do you think it's possible you can mess with the orders somehow?" Hermione asked. "Probably sneak a drop of this in them?"

Ginny's eyes widen. "Are you mental?"

"Probably a little." Hermione shrugged.

"Hermione, drinks with boggling berries are not allowed to be drunk outside of pubs or inns," Hannah reminded. "If they got out then the whole world would have been a madhouse of eejits and raging drunks. Some might have been killed or kill others."

"I'm not saying use them daily," Hermione said. "Just one time. All it takes is one slip up to get the truth out. Someone in the _Prophet_ is receiving the information for Skeeter and whoever it is will eventually make a mistake."

"There's always a flaw in the system," Julie repeated Hermione's words from earlier with an impressed smile. "You're too diabolical for your own good."

Hermione laughed. Ginny bit her lip, staring at the bottle uncertainly for a moment, before she shook her head.

"It's too risky," she said. "If people find out that I'm the one who botched up the drinks, not only will I get sacked, but I'll be sent to Azkaban for exposing substance outside of pubs. It's illegal."

Hermione frowned. "Gin-"

"Last time I recall, we've all done some pretty illegal things when we were younger," Luna pointed out casually, getting multiple eyes attracted to her. "We made our own defense group when it was banned from Hogwarts – we learned spells and potions that we were not of age to do – and we broke into the Ministry at some time. I don't see how something like this should stop you. Age is nothing different. You always were one to do the rebellious first and think later, Ginny."

Julie and Hannah stared at Luna with shocked eyes, not once blinking. Ginny seemed to be processing Luna's words as her eyes glazed over with a fog of contemplation. Hermione was smiling gratefully at Luna; she can honestly say she agreed with all the points the blonde said. They were all mischievous children who did not allow the law or the rules of the school to stop them from doing what they believed to be right. They were all grown up with new responsibilities to handle such as kids and bills but the fire of their will to do the best still remained intact and fresh.

"So will you?" Hermione asked. She held the bottle closer to her sister-in-law. "For Harry?"

Resigned, Ginny sighed. "Just one time. But if I get sacked and arrested, you better take care of my kids while I'm gone."

"Don't talk like that," Hermione said firmly. "You'll be fine – I know you will."

Ginny took the bottle. "What about you? Won't you be slipping a couple?"

"You have a greater chance of not getting capture compared to me," Hermione murmured. "I have Kingsley over my shoulder hourly now. Anything I do that is even considered suspicious will be reported to him and if he doesn't approve then I'll be sacked by the end of the day."

"How'd you manage that?"

"She may have had a very _loud_ row with the Minister," Julie answered with a chuckle. "Apparently it was so loud that it's the gossip of the day. ' _Pulling a Granger'_ is what we call it whenever it happens."

Ginny grimaced. "Oh, one of _those_. I've been in the receiving end of Hermione's tirades sometimes. Not pretty."

"Not _all_ my tirades are bad," protested Hermione. "And I prefer the term advising, thank you very much."

"Keep telling yourself that. Maybe it'll be true one day."

The five witches laughed loudly, gaining the eyes of the other customers in the corner booths or lone tables in the middle, some watching out of amusement while others were annoyed by the rude ruckus disturbing their peace. Neither of the women paid any attention to the peering gazes as they proceeded to speak among themselves, the tension of the situation slowly fading out with every conversation they discuss about. All thoughts of the _Daily Prophet_ , the article, or the boggling berries have decreased from their minds whilst their lunch continued smoothly.

Except for Hermione.

Although she knew that Harry was still lingering on the back of Ginny and Luna's mind, she felt certain that hers was the only one that him on every inch in her thoughts. She knew if action is not taken shortly and the papers continue to print out lies about Harry then he will be facing a world of destructive protestors and riots of paparazzi on his doorstep every morning. She hoped that they will find the person responsible for opening up Harry's private life before anything becomes too drastic for his sake and safety.

But parts of her thoughts about Harry were for what she told Julie. She did miss Harry. She had billion more reasons why she missed Harry by her side, many of them being her used to his presence near her as they have grown up together, but she tried to shudder herself out of her head for her sanity.

She discreetly brought her hand up to her collarbone, feeling the shape of her necklace from Harry hiding beneath her blouse, lightly running her finger over it. She can feel the chain pressing down on the nape of her neck, like it suddenly weighed five pounds or more. She could hear Harry's voice in her head, as if he was right there next to her, whispering in her ear the words she wants to hear him say: _I solemnly swear to you, Hermione Jean Granger, that I will be careful on this disastrous and dangerous mission and come back in one piece._

She hoped he is attempting to keep that promise to her or she will be crossed with him.

* * *

When Hermione returned to the Ministry after lunchtime, she learned that what Julie said is true about her being the gossip of the day. Every corner she turned she could hear her name being whispered and she could feel people watching her vaguely whenever she walked past them. It did not bother her as much as it did for the first few years. She mostly reveled in it – she felt like she was back in Hogwarts when a new gossip goes through the corridors and offices like they used to in the Great Hall and in the houses.

Hermione immediately went back to her office and kept to her last stacks of paperwork, instantly falling back to her routine of taking a break to read Harry's letter and admire the Koru on her picture frame. Before she would stare at both items with looks of tenderness and delight but the novice feeling was overtaken by the panic and frantic urge of maintaining Harry protected from the idiocy of the blinded readers of the _Daily Prophet_. Seeing the objects just increased her anxiety for his return so she can bask in the sight of him well and healthy. She knew anything related to the _Daily Prophet_ tended to travel quicker than Apparation and she was losing her mind not knowing if the residents of Montana are making his stay over there civil. She hoped she was just being paranoid but she knew she was not.

Hermione was going through (or at least attempting to) a health report of a baby critter that S.P.E.W. had saved from a polluted Muggle swamp. The medical division and the Ministry have chosen to not only settle in medicine and standard potions that can only help infections, wounds, or illness but also to do research to expand the possibilities for cures of other deadly diseases. The process was slow but the magical community is beginning to register the fact that potions and spells cannot erase all natural causes, that they are still born human either way.

Hermione did not like the idea of using animals to do the testing of any new batch brewed up but her protests were voted out. She was allowed to see what occurs to said creature and if she disapproves then she will shut it down. S.P.E.W. was still under her name after all.

A soft knock came from the door as Hermione was about to write a memo to the forensics lab for more anesthesia and she looked up after she beckoned the visitor in. She was quite surprised to see a dark-skinned man with black hair and dark eyes enter her office. She hadn't seen him since her wedding.

"Wotcher," he said with a good-natural grin. "Am I supposed to address you as Counselor Granger or Mrs. Weasley now?"

"Dean!" beamed Hermione. She leapt up from her chair and raced across the room to engulf her long-term comrade in a kind, welcoming hug. "It's been so long! How are you?"

Dean Thomas grinned lightly as she let him go. "I've been good. The team and I are on our way to Ireland for the next few matches so I thought I'd stop by."

Hermione nodded. She was not an obsessive fan of Quidditch like her family is but she had heard bits and pieces to know well enough that Dean had joined the Puddlemore team two years after Ginny was signed to the Holyhead Harpies. Aside from that, she did not know much about him.

"That's nice of you," Hermione said. "But your timing is off. Harry isn't here. He's gone for a mission and I don't know when he will be back. Ron is in Diagon Alley right now though."

"I already met up with him," Dean answered. "Rowdy place he works in. Almost got trampled over when I was in there."

Hermione chuckled. "It gets like that. So what's with the surprise visit? Are you still in contact with the others of our year?"

Dean slumped down in one of the chairs while Hermione merely stood by her desk, leaning against the edge. Dean glanced around the office with interested eyes, probably impressed by the many objects and relics displayed on the walls and shelves, having this to be the first time he set foot in her workplace.

"Seamus and I still keep in contact – he's sort of working for the Ministry in a way. He's working in a bombing industry in Wales, making explosives and such. Pavarti went somewhere in the States – Washington, I think. Last I heard, she's running a successful beauty business. Padma is working at the Ministry over there, I think. And Lavender actually just had another baby two months ago. I haven't seen her yet but I might visit her when I travel to Melbourne."

"That's fantastic. Send her my regards when you do," Hermione said. She and Lavender aren't exactly close friends but they had grown a mutual respect towards the other after the war. Lavender was thankful that Hermione had saved her from her near-death and for helping Madam Pomfrey with tending her wounds. Hermione was appreciative of Lavender's participation in the war; she could have ran and hide but she stayed even when Harry was assumed dead.

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," said Dean. He kept his eyes scanning the room; Hermione caught his attempt to not look at her.

"Is there a reason for your visit? Not that I mind," Hermione retorted. She and Dean were more like acquaintances from the DA and former classmates. She had different perspectives on Dean after his treatments towards Harry during the Triwizard Tournament fiasco and after.

Dean suddenly seemed uncomfortable. Hermione's curiosity rose to new heights as she watched him tapping on the armrest nervously and sees his leg bouncing shakily. She crossed her arms and arched her brow.

"You caught me," Dean broke out, resigned; Hermione smirked victoriously, proud to see her famous look is still able to crack down people's facades like it used to. "It's about your case."

"What about my case?"

Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his hands entwined. He looked somber; his eyes suddenly sadden and had a faraway look, as he sighed. The teasing and playful persona Hermione always saw in Dean for the past few years has evaporated and turned into this version of a bitter man who lost the shine in his eyes and the sweetness of his grin. Hermione approached him and kneeled in front of him as she gently placed a hand on his arm, feeling his muscles shaking under her touch.

"Dean, what's wrong?" she asked tentatively.

Dean sighed again. "I read the papers one time and it had something to do with your case. It talked about Rowle and listed the people he killed over the years. When I saw that you were involved with this case in favor of the Ministry, I was relieved honestly. I don't think there's anybody better for this except you."

"As nice and considerate that is of you," Hermione said. "What makes this case different from any other?"

"You see," Dean looked up at Hermione's face and licked his dry lips. "One of the people he killed was a relative of mine – my dad, actually. Micheal Thomas."

Hermione gasped, remembering the name to be on the list of casualties caused by Thorfinn Rowle. She remembered that Dean had lost his father at a young age and lived his life with his mother, step-father, and several half-siblings but he did not speak much about his family. Nobody in Gryffindor, with the exception to his best friend Seamus, knew anything further about Dean's father. It seemed to become irrelevant as time passed.

"Oh Dean, I – I didn't know," Hermione said. "How'd you find out it was Rowle who killed your father?"

"I saw his face when he killed my father," Dean instantly answered. "I was spending the weekend at his place when it happened. Rowle and a couple of Death Eaters broke into my house looking for my father because he was a member of the Order. He wanted to know where the headquarters was but father wouldn't let up. I didn't do anything because I was scared and I kept hidden in the cupboard like my father told me to. He killed him when he didn't give out any information and I stayed in the cupboard until my mum came to pick me up and found him. When I first saw him at the Battle of Hogwarts, I wasn't sure if it was him exactly but when I confronted him, I knew who he was."

"Oh dear," gasped Hermione astonishingly. She had never expected such a horrid background coming from someone who enjoyed living life with a smile before and after the war. His smile was too sunny bright to even think he had witnessed a traumatizing moment such as the death of his father that would forever scar him. She never thought that the way his father passed, he would have seen a Death Eater up front. He made it very easy to forget that he was a child of a widowed parent and for Hermione to hear him speak for the first time in twenty-six years, she saw him in a whole new light.

"Enough with the heavy," Dean said with his trademark grin, waving her off. Hermione can see he was struggling to maintain the smile with the way how the corners of his mouth were twitching. He stared at her directly in the eyes with a bitter glint that did not match his weakening smile. "Now that you know about that, I gotta ask you to do something for me; I need you to win this case for my father."

Hermione nodded wordlessly. She already knew what his request was but she was not expected the intensity of the emotions his words held. She did not know what age he lost his father but she can hear no matter how long it has been since that night, he truly loved his father. It reminded her of her love for her father – cold-skinned, pale, struggling to wake, to not die. She did not think she could have something in common with this man until now.

"I know it's a lot to ask," Dean continued. "You have a lot of pressure with the Ministry and the people and other things probably more important but…I really need this, Hermione. I couldn't kill him at the war – he was too powerful. But knowing he's in Azkaban, rotting away in some dirty cell like a corpse then…I'd be okay knowing my father's death is justified, you know. And-"

"Dean, _Dean,_ I get where you're going," Hermione said. "You don't have to worry about pressuring me about it – the Ministry and the public already give me enough of that. Actually, you've given me even more purpose to win this case. I have no idea you were carrying such a burden all this time."

"I don't make a big deal out of it," Dean murmured with a shrug. "It was a long time ago."

"But the wound is still fresh," Hermione added.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

Hermione places her hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Don't worry. I'll win this case. This bloke has done a lot of damage to a lot of people. You're actually the first of many who are family with his victims and come to talk to me personally about this case – I respect that. I can see how much this means to you."

Dean blushed out of embarrassment. "Y-yeah," he stuttered and Hermione laughed. She never saw him stumble over his words aside from the short period he had dated Ginny.

"You can trust me," she said with a sincere smile.

Dean stared at her for a long minute and for a second, Hermione thought that perhaps he was going to burst into tears or promptly leave her office without another word as he finally got her word. But then he did the unexpected and lunged forward and hugged her immensely tightly, holding her closely to him as he muttered his gratitude into her ear repeatedly. She hesitantly brought her arms around his middle, not exactly used to receiving any contact from him, and gently patted him on his hunched back.

"I appreciate it, Hermione, truly," he whispered fiercely into her ear, his breath brushing over her hair. "I can see why Ron and Harry have you around so much."

"I…er…Dean…" Hermione stumbled. She put her brought her hands over to his chest and gently pushed him back, making him release her respectively. "Hehe. No need to thank me. It's my job."

"No," Dean shook his head. " _Thank you_."

Hermione smiled before she went back up to her feet and brushed her hands down on her knees. Dean got up from the chair and stretched out his arms with a strained groan.

"Well, I should let you get back to whatever it is you're working on," Dean said casually. "If Harry ever comes back sometimes this week, tell him and Ron to let me know if they wanna hang out. Or maybe we can go to the next Quidditch match this weekend – I can get us a couple of good seats."

"That'd be nice, I'm sure everyone would love that," Hermione replied politely, fighting against the cringe. She can already see herself sitting while the rest of her family will be practically leaning over the rails, shouting at their hated team, and cheering at their favorite.

"Thanks again."

"No problem, Dean. Take care."

Dean gave her another quick hug before he let go and left the office without another word or glance, gently closing the door behind him.

As soon as she heard the click, Hermione lets out despair sigh as she slumped into the chair Dean had recently occupied and looked down as her hands on her lap. The idea of her family going to the Quidditch matches together again was wonderfully fascinating and wholly pleasant; she would feel like she was back in time to when James was only born and everything was simpler. No fighting, no confusion, no pain. To the happier days. But she knew it would not feel like that if Harry was not there with them.

Her family would not be whole as well as she would not be without him.

* * *

When Hermione clocked out of work and immediately apparated to the Burrow for an annual family dinner, she instantly knew there was something wrong. The caring atmosphere was too thick with tension even though the adults were setting up the table, preparing the many dishes, and the children were in the backyard chasing any garden gnomes to throw into the river. She could not pinpoint exactly the main reason why she suspected a conflict among the family but she knew it was whenever she would look at Ron; his smiles seemed too forced and the false happiness never once reached his eyes. His way of talking was less enthusiastic, like he seems to be too distracted to follow along with the subject he was speaking about and occasionally he would glance at Hugo through the window and avoid her gazes purposely.

Hermione wanted very badly to know what is going on in her family.

She took the chance to find out when Molly was occupied in cutting up the pork and she practically dragged Ron to the family room as the others continued their loud charades. She glanced back at the kitchen for a moment to see if they had not caught any attention and then looked back at the somewhat confused face of her husband.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Uh, we're cooking supper?" Ron guessed lamely. "I mean we were until you hauled me out here like some sort of sack of-"

"I don't mean in general, Ron," said Hermione. "I mean, what's going on? You're not yourself. Did something happen when you talked to Ginny? By the way, I'm not fond of you using profanity in front of Lily – I understand your best mate was being attack but be a little more considerate with your emotions and with what you say when you're around the kids."

"Nothing's going on," Ron murmured. "And no – nothing happen between me and Ginny. Although, she did use the Silencing Charm on me and I was a bit peeved-"

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Hermione raised a brow. "Ron," she said warningly.

"C'mon Hermione, there are gonna be days when I'm not myself but that doesn't mean there's something wrong," Ron retorted casually with a shrug. "I'm just tired from work. And from the meeting with Calvin. Too much mental use in one day, if you ask me."

Hermione stayed silent; she crossed her arms and looked at him sharply, showing her clear doubt in his words. She and Ron stared down at each other for a minute, challenging the other to break the gaze – her showing her urgent will to discover the cause while Ron's seemed apparent and weakening. A few seconds passed before Ron lets out a resigned sigh and Hermione's lips twitched. She won.

"Hugo had a row in school today," Ron answered quietly. "That Jamie lad from last time is a real bugger. A parent-teacher conference was needed as soon as lessons ended."

Now worried, Hermione frowned, "What happened?"

"He made fun of Hugo being dyslexic," Ron said grimly. "Hugo was called on to read and he got stuck on a paragraph. He heard Jamie was making jokes about it and had a couple of the kids poke him around. He felt embarrassed and confronted him and I guess you can say things got physical after that. Supposedly it's not the first time he and Jamie had problems – last week, he pushed Jamie off the swings because he said he would be too scared to go high, and the week before that, he had shoved Jamie in the water fountain because he knocked his books out of his hands. The headmaster was considering expelling Hugo but I managed to convince him to give him at least a week's detention starting next Monday."

"Oh my God," Hermione gasped in disbelief. She cannot believe that her sweet little boy was causing such havoc in his school. He always seemed fine at home and she never saw any signs of discomfort from him whenever he talked about his adventures in school. She felt terrible not discovering that the same kid who he fought before was still bullying him even when she, his other, and the headmaster had an agreement and made them come to good terms. Hugo even told her that he and Jamie were friends now but now she can see he only said that to make her feel better and that made her feel the latter.

"He begged me not to tell you," Ron admitted.

"You should have told me, Ronald!" hissed Hermione. "Regardless! I'm his mother and I have a right to know this!"

"I know that!"

"If you did then you would have told me either way!"

"Look Hermione, I don't want to argue about this! I agreed not to tell you because I know how skeptical you'd get! Like now! Beside I handled the situation!"

"By giving him detention! He doesn't deserve such a thing for defending himself!"

"It's better than him getting expelled! Would you prefer he was out of school?"

"Of course not!" Hermione said. "But you could have done better! You're so good at persuading and making deals with other companies so why couldn't you convince the headmaster to not punish Hugo? It's not his fault that he's getting bullied! – It's not his fault that he was born dyslexic!"

"I never said it was Hugo's fault!" Ron shot back. "But I rather he gets detention than not going to school at all!"

"I'm going to the school tomorrow and talk to the headmaster myself," Hermione insisted.

"Don't be daft, Hermione, you'll only make it worse," Ron said.

Hermione huffed, "Excuse me!"

"Have you seen how you are when you're mad?"

"I'll have you know-"

A rough cough broke into the low, heated argument, making Hermione and Ron to jump apart, as they had leaned closer during their quarrel. They looked behind Ron to see George standing by the couch, his hands buried in his pockets, his feet shuffling across the floor, and looking completely uncomfortable as he stared at them. It was at that moment Hermione realized that the commotion in the kitchen was slowly returning and she knew that she and Ron were not being entirely discreet of their discussion. Or perhaps they already knew they would squabble. Either way she knew that they had heard them in the end. From the corner of her eye, she can see Ron's ear turn red.

"Mum needs your help to peel off the pigskin," George said gruffly, bringing one hand up to scratch his nose.

"I'm going to check on the kids," Hermione murmured. She sent a quick glare at Ron before she turned her heel and made her way out to the backyard, not paying attention to the low grumbling of her husband or the hushed tones of her in-laws.

When she was out in the open of the backyard, she was greeted with the musky scent of the fresh air and the sight of her niece and son scurrying across the grassy field, swiping their hands at the fleeing gnomes as they tried to capture them. She crossed her arms as she watched them with a sad smile, the hurt from earlier returning to gnaw on her whilst she looked at how truly happy and open Hugo is at the moment. She wondered how many times he covered up his problems for her and Ron's sake. She was still in denial at the fact that her son had to act like a brute force and a reckless mess in school over another young boy in order to defend himself. She was pleased to know that Hugo was strong enough to stand up to himself but she did not want it to be to the point that it would cost him his education and well-being. She knew he was better than that.

"Hugo!" she called out. "Can you come here for a second? I need to have a word with you!"

Hermione can see the kids paused from their chase at her voice, share a quick look, and Hugo suddenly became sheepish. She grinned at the small exchange; she knew eventually that habit she and Harry have would be passed down to one of their kids one day. They always see her and Harry do it all the time. She waited patiently as Hugo jog up to her, noticing that his eyes were watching her carefully, and she knew he knew that she learned about his mischiefs.

"Yeah mum?" he asked.

"Come here," she said as she seized his hand and led him to the old, creaky bench by the small brick wall. They sat together and she looked at him expectantly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Nope," he lied instantly.

"Really now? So nothing happened in school?" Hermione questioned mockingly. "Like say, you didn't get detention or almost got expelled? Anything between those lines?"

Hugo groaned. "Dad ratted me out?"

"I squeezed it out of him," Hermione said. She wrapped an arm around his small shoulder and held him closer. "Now what happened?"

"I'm pretty sure it's the same as dad told you," Hugo muttered. "Jamie made fun of me – I confronted him – ended up in a row – dad talked to the headmaster – I got detention – short and simple."

Hermione frowned. "Honey, you can't just go and start a row with someone all because they're making fun of you. Yes, you defended yourself but was it worth it in the end? You got punished for it."

"But it's not the first time!" Hugo screeched out. "He's always making fun of me and I didn't do much at first because I know you and dad would get mad at me but I couldn't take it anymore! I got tired of being made fun of!"

"Then why didn't you tell me or your father that Jamie was still bothering you? Or your professors?" Hermione inquired. "We could have done something to make it stop."

"So the other kids can pick on me for being a snitch? No!" Hugo scoffed. "You don't understand."

"Don't I?" Hermione chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart, you don't know how much we're alike when it comes to getting bullied. You're actually luckier."

Hugo raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Because when you go to Hogwarts, you'll be able to leave your bullies behind," Hermione explained kindly. "Me, your father, and your Uncle Harry didn't get a chance to. Harry and I were bullied in primary school and your father was harassed by your Uncle Fred and George's pranks. You know how messy those can be. Sure, we had each other but each of us had to go through this one bully – a Slytherin – who thought he was superior to us because his family was wealthier and because he is a pure-blood. Every year, he tried and tried to make our lives miserable."

"And what did you do?"

"We just ignored him," Hermione shrugged. "There were moments when he and Harry would end up dueling or Ron hexing him and there was also a mishap when I got beaver teeth. But the important thing is that we didn't let him step on us. That's the best thing you can do. It ticks them off and sooner or later they will give up when they see they're not doing much effect on you."

"Oh," Hugo murmured.

"Look, I understand that you were hurt and angry at Jamie but in reality he isn't worth your breath, honey," Hermione said. "Because he isn't going to be in your life forever. Before you even know it, he will be just a memory and you won't even remember his name. Bullies are just a part of life and it's your choice whether you want them to take over yours or get past them. If you want my advice – walk away. You're a better man than Jamie. You're much more intelligent, talented, and healthier than him. And I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother."

"So," Hugo paused to lick his lips. "So the way I am doesn't make me odd? A wizard with dyslexia isn't considered a freak?"

"Hmm, a freak?" Hermione mused. "If by _'freak'_ you mean unique then yes you're a freak. Be proud that you are. The greatest minds, the most achieved, and the most influential figures in history have their own disabilities and struggled because of them. They were _freaks._ But it made them better and their names became known. You never know – you might be one of them."

Hugo smiled a small smile. "So does that make you a freak?"

"I guess it does," Hermione laughed. She rubbed his shoulder.

"It's okay," Hugo said. "If you're a freak then I'm a freak. Let's be freaks together."

"Let's be freaks together," Hermione repeated.

Hugo grinned brightly, all traces of his sadness vanished, then lunged forward into his mother as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and burying his face into her bosom. Hermione just held him, glad to know that she is able to help him through what is causing him pain and hopefully will make good changes for him in school. She was still planning to talk to the headmaster to reconsider Hugo's punishment. She will enjoy this moment of her son's content for now. She did not want him to go through life thinking so low of himself because another said so – she wanted him to believe, to achieve, to gain, and repeat. She knew he has the gift to be success in whatever he dreams to be as much as Rose does. They are her children.

" _HERMIONE!"_

The sound of Ron's voice suddenly shouting out from within the house had caused Hermione to leap into her feet, almost knocking down Hugo from the bench if she hadn't kept him held in her arms. She saw Ron burst through the backdoor, his face red, his eyes wide in alert, and his breathing labor. It made her anxious and afraid – she only sees Ron in such a state when she was pregnant, the Chudley Cannons lost a match, or if either of the kids were harmed. But it seemed more on edge, more alarming than any other.

"Wh-what's going on?" she stuttered nervously. She can feel herself trembling and she did not know why. Her heart was beating erratically and it hurt her chest with the hard thumps. Her blood ran colder as the seconds ticked by.

"It's…it's…" Ron wheezed out. "I just got a Patronus from one of the Aurors! They're back from Montana but…Harry…he's been sent to St. Mungo's. He's injured badly!"

Hermione lets out a wild gasp; her heart stopped beating altogether and her blood became ice.

* * *

 **A:N:** Nice to know no matter how much time has passed that Hermione and Ron are still that overprotective about Harry. I liked writing Ron being worked up over his best friend's safety - I feel like nobody gives him enough credit for that. I obviously enjoyed writing Hermione being rebellious and devious - I love her bad ass side!

I also liked writing Dean's history with the Death Eaters. I feel like his character doesn't have that much depth. From what stories I've read, people mostly put him in as just a person for Ginny to have so Harry and Hermione can be together, or someone who is trying to take Ginny away from Harry and go all crazy if he doesn't have her. I feel like he has a bad reputation because of HBP for being in a relationship with Ginny and other Ginny-character shippers. He was just being an imperfect teenager like all of us are or were. That's the purpose of the book mostly - be proud not being perfect and embrace yourself. I see no reason to treat him like that - I feel like there's more to his character than shown.

But hey, that's my opinion. I just wanted to let that out. There's no importance there. Let's focus on what might have happened to Harry on his mission!

I've been meaning to ask in the last few chapters; what do you all think about me putting in actually events that happened in the Muggle world? Ex: Gay marriage being legalized in the States. I wanted to make the Harry Potter as connected to our world as much as possible.

 **Please Review!**


	18. Glistening Ghosts

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the character and locations used in it, or the songs mentioned it in.

I'm completely speechless from the many reviews I got from the last chapter. I don't even know what to say now except thank you. It's not enough but thank you.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter very much. Love you all.

* * *

 _For the light, for the love_

 _For the truth in your eyes_

 _I am grateful to have such a friend by my side_

 _For the tears, for the joy_

 _For not asking me why_

 _We can hold our hands up and reach for the sky_

 _You kept your faith when my words were untrue_

 _You made me laugh when I was feeling blue_

 _Always giving, never asking for more than a smile upon my face_

 _Together we will conquer the whole world_

\- Song For You; Lunatica

* * *

 _"I found you not at the end of my storybook but in an odd part in the middle. It's dog eared and the corners are worn from me reading it over and over again. And although you didn't turn out to be my happy ending, you'll always be my favorite chapter."_

\- Anonymous

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: Glistening Ghosts**

 _To the concerned family,_

 _Chief Potter has been admitted to St. Mungo's for medical purposes. You may visit him in the private ward for Aurors. Say Auror Mercer sent you and they will let you in._

Hermione remembered hearing the Patronus say from one of the top Aurors of the Ministry, Kennedy Mercer, and how she was rooted to the spot in shock. It had taken her the yells of her son and George to bring her back to consciousness before she and the Weasley family apparated to St. Mungo's the next second. The Healer who was assigned to take care of Harry did not need the name of the kind Auror to let them by as he had recognized her and Ron's face instantly and he was quick to his feet to lead them to their fallen best friend.

The afternoon had drained down into a twilight during their arrival; the ward was quiet, only to be broken by the soft coughs of the other patients, the curtains were drawn open to bring a little bit of life into the solemn room, the lamps were dimly lit, and a quarter of the beds in the room were occupied by heavily injured Aurors with gruesome wounds that looked fatal and traumatizing fractured limbs. Arthur and Molly made sure that the kids did not go near them. The one bed that was most surrounded was Harry's; Ginny was sitting on one side with Lily on her lap while Ron and Hermione were on the opposite with Hugo on Ron's lap. They could not see Harry as soon as they came because he was still in surgery and they were not able to see him until past nine.

When they saw him, they were grimacing. Harry was wrapped in blood-stained gauzes from his head to his shoulder and his torso to his left knee. His face was covered in bruises, a scar was lashed across the previous one he had from his earlier missions, his lip was cut open, his nose was red from the dried blood, and one of his eyebrows have lost a patch. Hermione hoped that the Healers would come back to grow it back. He looked rough with just his wounds branded over his old ones that he seemed breakable with just the slightest of touches. No one tried to even hold his hand in fear it may cause him pain.

"Is daddy going to be okay, mum?" asked Lily, her voice wavered. Hermione felt her throat clog up as she can see her niece was openly in tears.

Ginny rubbed her daughter's shoulders comfortingly, her eyes too full of unshed tears, and after taking a deep breath, she said, "He'll be fine, sweetie. He's a tough bloke, your father. He just has a couple of boo-boo's, that's all."

"Will a kiss make them better?" Lily wondered, her flooded eyes staring up at Ginny hopefully. "You always do that to me whenever I get hurt."

"Go ahead and try. But be gentle, he's still hurt," Ginny added. She held Lily steadily in her grasp as she leaned forward and began to plant to butterfly kisses on the tiny scars and bruises painted around Harry's face.

"Not his best homecoming, isn't it?" asked George gloomily. Next to him, Angelina gently rubbed his arm to comfort him. "Most of them include him being conscious. I was sort of expecting him to come barreling through the door during supper like he always does."

"Oh stop it, George!" Molly said, frantically readjusting the bed sheets to cover any part of Harry exposed to the cool air of the ward and then coming up to the head of the bed to carefully fluff the pillow under Harry's supported head. "You're talking like he's dead. He's fine. Just needs a few days of rest, a couple of blood-replenishing vials, heal a couple of a more bones, and he'll be back to his old self in no time, surely."

"Molly, dear, stop," Arthur pleaded. "I'm sure Harry is fine the way he is. You don't need to do that."

Beside her, Ron sighed deeply, shaking his head. Hermione glanced at him, back up at Molly who was still attempting to make Harry seem comfortable, and then down at her motionless best friend with a contemplating expression. She wondered if, after losing one of her son's in the war, Molly had saw Fred in Harry as he is the closest thing she can consider as a son. She did have George but perhaps she cannot find it in her to see Fred in him because, although they were twins who shared the same mind and passion in comedy, their personalities were actually different if compared. Maybe that is why she had Harry as an image of an official son – he did not look like Fred, he did not act like Fred, and he was not Fred. Harry did not become an official member of the Weasley family because he was Ron's best friend or because he was a suburbanite son throughout the years or because he married Ginny but because he was not Fred. She did not have to be reminded constantly of her loss.

Hermione looked away from Harry and back at the door where she can see the floppy mess of dark hair of Kennedy Mercer. He had stated that he was standing guard in case any reporters or photographers tried to sneak into the room but Hermione knew he only lied to give them all the deserved privacy they needed. She was thankful for his consideration.

"How long did the Healer say he will be bedded?" Angelina asked.

"Two weeks," said Ron. "They had to give him a bezoar. They said he had inhaled some poisonous fumes of a deadly potion. If it stayed in his system any longer then he would have been paralyzed."

"Where did the poison come from?" Ginny demanded. "More importantly, what was he even doing with poison? Harry is more of a brawler – he always goes in."

"We were following Yaxley's tracks," came out from Kennedy; the family looked back at him curiously. He did not move from his spot by the doors. "Chief managed to get a lead by one of the locals who caught sight of Yaxley and Jugson meeting in one of the diners. He was able to follow up Yaxley's tracks to his hidden cabin in the mountains. We infiltrated the area when the explosion happened. The ashes were laced with Cholinesterase and Polypeptide. But don't worry – the Healers were able to flush them out during surgery," he added when he saw the panicked faces of the family.

"And Harry was the one who took it the heaviest because he was the closest, yeah?" Arthur asked, his voice steep and clear, but one can sense the shaky balms of his words. He sounded like he was close to breaking.

"Unfortunately," Kennedy mumbled. Mr. Weasley slipped off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head.

Hermione balled her hands up on her lap as she stared down at Harry's emotionless, battered face with fierce yet sadden eyes. She felt anger at him for being reckless among the territory of his most wanted enemy and not being cautious with any vials of potions he did not recognize but the feeling was overtaken by the pain that was stabbing her physically to see him so wounded and immobilized on the bed. He had come a few times from his previous missions with a few minor scars that could be healed with a drop of dittany but the ones when he is tracking a Death Eater or a Snatcher, he would return needing heavier treatments. Yet neither of them ended with him being caught in a poisonous explosion.

 _You promised!_ She thought angrily, resisting the urge to drop her fists on his chest to express her frustration towards him. She can feel all the blood in her face being drained. _You said you would be careful! You said you would be back in one piece but yet here you are barely kept together! You prat! You rash, uncontrollable brute! You could have died! IDIOT!_

There was a pause of silence while they all watched Harry sleep. His fingers would twitch and his brows would tingle, making the kids leapt in hope that he would be awaken, but then he would let out a breath and go back to a quiet rest. Ginny had reached for his hand on her side and squeeze it tentatively, sometimes she would press his hand to her lips for a soothing kiss. Hermione did not pay attention to her; she was focus on Harry's face, mainly watching his eyes for any signs of him waking up. She knew it would not be soon until he is awake again. The Healers had given him morphine to reduce the pain of his bones growing back together under the process of the many healing potions he was injected with.

"Why make a flammable poison anyway?" asked Hugo quietly.

"Nobody said anything about flammable, son," Ron said.

"But it must have been to cause an explosion," Hugo retorted. "I imagine Uncle Harry was using a spell when it happened. If you think about it, doesn't matter what it is, science is always used in everything we do. Just because we're wizards and we use potions it doesn't mean it's any less scientific than Muggle chemistry. Science is magic, magic is science. Either way it's dangerous. Like a match, our wands make the fire that will collide with the nature of science and make an explosion. Everything we use is flammable. Magical or not."

"Which brings the question why make the poison in the first place," George said. "It doesn't make sense. What are their motives?"

"I don't know," Hugo responded with a sheepish shrug. "I'm just a kid."

Ron chuckled as he patted his son's head. "And a brilliant one. Nice insight. But it's true what George is saying; why make one? And one that explodes?"

"And how many too," added Mr. Weasley. "No doubt the one in the cabin was for Harry and the Aurors just to slow them down."

"Do you think the locals who tipped off Harry were Death Eaters as well?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "Or maybe associated with them? A Snatcher, perhaps."

"They'd be cowards if they send an Auror to their deaths like that," Angelina said. "There can't be any more Death Eaters – they're all identified. Everyone knows how they look. Snatchers are a bigger probability. There might be more than the one group we saw at the war."

"Anything's possible," said George darkly.

"Let's not jump to conclusions now," Arthur said. "Yaxley and Jugson are two complex wizards, they are. They might have known Harry was in Montana somehow and had the locals under the Imperius Curse. They planned this attack either way. Right now let's hope that Harry gets well soon."

Hermione wished she could get involved with the conversation revolving around her but she found that she is left without her voice. Her throat was too dry. She cannot stop looking at Harry's face; he was at peace but yet she can see that he was also in pain. His breathing was even but balmy. His skin was pale but not cold, probably still warm from the explosion. She is disappointed in him for coming back this way. She is scared for his life. She does not understand how he is able to make her feel good and bad things at the same time. She only wants him to wake up so she could hug him once more without fearing she may be inflicting any pain on him yet she wants to slap him for his stupidity and lack of constant vigilance. He broke her promise but he did not do it intentionally. She did not know what she should feel about him now.

"I'm going to talk to the Healer and see what we need to help Harry get better," Ron insisted as he lowered Hugo from his lap and rose from his chair. "Maybe he needs to take some shots of blood-replenishes daily or how many times a day he needs to sleep and all that. Can't be too safe."

"I'll come with you," Mr. Weasley volunteered.

Ron gave Hermione's shoulder a quick, gentle tap before he and his father left the ward in search of the assigned Healer. Kennedy closed the door after them before he went back to his post.

"God," George sighed. "I don't mean to sound inconsiderate but I can't believe Yaxley and Jugson got away. And doing this to the Aurors. The world is gonna go on a frenzy when they find out about this."

"They won't," Ginny said firmly. "Anyone who dares even want to peep a word of this will have to go through me to get it. We already have someone throwing his name in dirt – we don't need this story going out in papers too."

"Why not make everyone in this room do an Unbreakable Vow?" George suggested. "Probably our best bet."

Mrs. Weasley swatted him in the arm. "We don't need to go so extreme for this. Surely neither of us would dare to talk to those rotten people of the _Daily Prophet_ – aside from you, Ginny dear – and have Harry's name be made fun of. Just to be safe, let's not talk about what's going on outside of this ward. Poor dear already has enough on his plate."

Suddenly, Harry jerked and lets out a hurt hiss. His eyes were squeezed as if he was trying to go through a torturous strangle occurring within him. He arched his back a little before he slumped back into the mattress with a gasp.

"Daddy!" Lily wailed, flinging herself forward to replace her mother's hand with hers. Her face was coated with one drop of tear along with another, her nose red as well as her cheeks, and her voice sounded stuffed like she was ill.

"I'll go find a Healer!" Mrs. Weasley said, startled, before she fled out of the ward; Angelina chose to go alongside with her to increase the chances of finding an attainable employee in the corridors.

Hermione shot up from her chair as did Ginny, but she stayed just hovering over him while Ginny combed his hair back from his face and carefully held him down on the pillows. For a second, the forbidden kiss she had shared with Harry flashed through her mind and a pang of guilt went through Hermione as she can see the care and love the redhead showed for the dark-haired wizard in any condition he is in. She shook her head to erase her mind before she went to holding Harry by the shoulder to keep him still. A thought ran in her head and she looked back at Kennedy to see him still standing by the doors, a bewildered expression over his scarred face, and his eyes conflicted. She saw red.

"What are you standing there for?" she demanded bossily, her voice hard and unrecognizable. She sounded more like a commanding leader making a hasty decision rather than a person in concern and desperate for the help of her agonizing best friend. "GO AND LOOK FOR A HEALER! THE MORE – THE QUICKER!"

Kennedy, jumping in shock by her unexpected outburst, nodded rapidly before he yanked the door open and sprinted out on a search. Hermione went back to tending Harry as he kept groaning and thrashing his head to the sides, pushing his shoulders against Ginny and Hermione's hands, hissing in pain; the noises he was making sounded awfully like a child suffering from a broken leg and Hermione figured perhaps it was the fractured ribs the Healer told them about that Harry was cringing about. From the corner of her eye, she can see George held the kids a few feet away from the bed, struggling to maintain a firm with a Lily in hysterics, and a babbling Hugo demanding his offer of assistance to be taken by the two witches.

"Darling, just hang on," Ginny said. "A Healer will be here soon. Just hold on a little longer."

"Nee," croaked Harry unexpectedly through his moans and groan. "Ny-ee!"

It made Hermione want to cry on the spot to see Harry too broken to even speak properly, his noises expressing his torture making it difficult for him to focus. He looked like a sick little boy begging for the presence of his mother, wanting to see her face, to hear her face, to feel her arms cradle him as she sang him back to sleep, searching for any signs of reassurance that he was safe and away from the dangers of the world coming after him. She wanted to be able to be the one to hold him through his pain but Ginny had moved forward to brush back more clumps of his hair from his face, making it easier for Hermione to see the more visible scrapes lined over his face.

"It will be over soon," continued Ginny to soothe him. "Just wait a bit longer. Mum is on the way with a Healer."

"My – 'urts!" Harry gasped out, never opening his eyes, as he dropped his head back onto the pillow. "Ngh!"

"Daddy!" cried Lily, trying to pull George's arm from around her.

"Uncle Harry!" shrieked Hugo.

"I know it hurts, love, but you can get through this," Ginny said sympathetically. "Just please-"

Harry sat upright abruptly, breaking through the witch's combined grasps on his shoulders, his eyes snapping open. His breathing was rapid, his face was now moist with the many beads of sweat rolling down from his temple, soaking through the bandage wrapped tightly around his head. He was gasping out words that sounded incoherent, too impossible for anyone in the room to understand what letter it even began with. His eyes were wide and wild but unfocused. Ginny and Hermione pushed him back on the pillow.

"Harry," said Hermione frantically, finally being able to find her voice and she realized she sounded like she had a hole in her throat, nearly breathless. "You need to try to remain still. Any more movement will make your wounds worse or reopen some of them. A Healer will be around soon. Just please, try to go-"

"My-nee," Harry managed to choke out, his eyes searching for her, clearly trying to find her by following her voice. His glasses were on the table next to the bed. "Er-my-nee."

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "It's me. Ginny is here - and George. The kids are with us. Ron, Arthur, and Molly are looking for a Healer. Auror Mercer is as well. They'll be here soon."

"My-Nee – 'urts!"

The doors flew open, making the five beings to jump; Kennedy entered the room with Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Angelina, and a Healer followed him closely. Molly was already making her way to Harry's side to help the witches in keeping his stilled while Arthur went to hold down Harry's fumbling legs with Ron. The Healer has a tray of bottles, syringes, and gauzes hovering behind him as he slid through the crowded bed to his patient.

"All will be over soon, Auror Potter," the Healer said as he injected the medicine into the tube of his IV bag; a moment later soon, Harry's movements have slowed and his small yelps lowered into barely inaudible mutters.

"Cheers," Molly sighed in relief, feeling her son-in-law no longer struggling against her grasps. Slowly, each pair of hands pulled away from Harry's legs and arms, watching him anxiously in silence in case he ended up in another round of thrashes.

"It's my job, miss," the Healer said. "It's actually normal for someone in his condition to act that way. He's been asleep since he came out of surgery and all the pain that has been numbed out will came back all at once after the medicine dies. We will have to keep him sedated throughout the week to make sure he doesn't end up harming himself any further. The potions are in the process of healing every wound and putting his bones back together. But it won't work if he has another one of his episodes."

"What can we do to make sure he doesn't?" Ron asked anxiously.

"I suggest you leave him here for the next two weeks just to be sure," the Healer retorted. "When he is checked out, the best you can do is make sure he gets many hours of rest per day, bring him here to a weekly checkup, and let time heal him to full health."

"Nee," Harry slurred.

"Harry," Ginny hovered over Harry's weakened body and took his hand in one while the other gently stroked his hair back to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. She kept her lips close to his ear as she whispered quietly, "You're gonna be okay now. No pain, right?"

Harry leaned into her voice, his brows furrowed. "Er-my-nee," he croaked. "My-nee."

Hermione's eyes widen in astonishment at the sound of her name almost coming out of Harry's lips. It did not truly catch her off guard the first few times because she knew he had heard her voice but she had not spoken, not even utter a word since the Healer came into the room. Yet she can feel the tiny warmth in her heart, the small sensation she had felt when he first mutter her name, slowly spread throughout her body and made her tingle. She remembered feeling like this when it was Ron who was in the same position as Harry after he had gotten poisoned. The flutters in her stomach, the shivers in her skin, the increased beating of her heart, and the sensation of contentment coursing through her. These were all the same emotions she felt that day. Her face felt hotter as she can sense sixteen eyes watch her curiously but she mostly saw Ginny's bright brown eyes cast something she was not used to seeing being directed to her; accusation and betrayal.

"Er-my-nee," Harry muttered once more as he raised a trembling hand, barely managing to lift it up. Hermione chose to not lock gaze with the many eyes settled on her, not wanting to see the thousand emotions that could possibly swimming in them like she saw in Ginny's, as she made her way back to her chair next to Harry and then tentatively held the hand he has searching for her.

"I'm here," she whispered lowly, hoping that no one else could hear her. She only intended for his ears to be the one to catch it.

Harry inhaled sharply through his nose, and with one gentle breath, he whispered out a perfectly clear, "Hermione," before he let his hand fall on one side and he was overcome with a series of mere snores. Hermione kept her eyes on his now peaceful face, trying to ignore the weight of the others on her, as she caressed his hand. She did not want to know what the others were thinking – she did not want to revel in the guilt of the hurt that Ginny might be feeling –the anger that could be bubbling up in Ron now – the confusion of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at what just occurred – the possibly knowing look George might have on his face – or the contemplating faces Angelina probably has while watching the scene. She was just happy now to know that Harry was alive and breathing. He is injured an in internal pain but he was back to where he belongs. She wants to live in the moment thinking that instead. She will deal with the others later.

"Well, it seems Mr. Potter is taken care of for the moment," said the Healer uncomfortable, trying to break the rough tension in the atmosphere. "If you lot would come with me, I need to fill you in on a few things about his condition. Let you know what he will still need to take when he's discharged."

"Of course," Mr. Weasley coughed then sniffed. "We'd appreciate that."

Slowly everyone shuffled out of the room, the girls planting slight kisses on Harry's cheek on their way and the boys giving soft pats on his decent leg. Hermione never left nor moved from her spot next to Harry, never breaking her stare on his face. She can still feel them look at her as they left and she dared to not look at them directly until she heard the door open; she glanced over her shoulder in time to see Ron being the last one to walk out of the room and he had peered back at her quickly before he disappeared into the corridor.

He did not know that in that one second, Hermione had seen what his eyes held and that she was surprised to see that he was not actually feeling any anger towards the sight of how cozy and heart-warming his best friend may seem. She was left confused when she noticed that what he held were a complete opposite to what she was expecting to be pointed at her; hope and confliction.

* * *

For the following days, Hermione settled her schedule to visit her father one day and Harry the other. Harry's wounds had gotten cured with the many shots of dittany and he remained in a deep sleep under sedation. She wish she could say the same about her father; he seemed like he was more than likely to be waking up anytime soon unlike Harry who looked like he was being reborn. She was tempted to stack up a few vials of the healing potions to inject them in her father's system but she knew that would be able to track down the lost items and she cannot make up a batch to use it on him because then she would be breaking the law for using magic on a Muggle. She knew that she already has enough of authority hovering over her shoulder hourly by Kingsley.

The story of the explosion in Montana broke out sooner than anyone anticipated but they were pleased to know it was not because it was because of Harry yet Hermione cannot help but grieve when she read the _Daily Prophet_ headlines one morning; SECOND IN COMMAND, FIRST TO DIE. She was left as a hollow shell of herself to learn that Harry's second in command, Auror Arnold Grumps, had lost his life during the explosion. According to what the family of the lost man had heard from the Auror who reported his death to them, he had died been caught under a fallen debris and was burned alive from the fire.

The Department of Aurors will be holding a funeral in three weeks honoring his name and of the other few who had their lives taken by the explosion. Hermione inwardly sends her condolences to the families; she can see that she, the kids, and the Weasley family were one of the many lucky ones to have their loved one come home, not unharmed, but alive.

Lily never missed a day to visit her father. She would come directly after school with Ginny or then with Ron and Hermione if Ginny had to stay at work longer; she was still trying to slip the boggling berries in the refreshments of the break room and find the informant. She figured she might have at least make Harry's return less stressful if she is able to take down the mole and not have to worry about his image being twisted under the name of scummy reporters, and Hermione admired her for that even though Ginny had not spoken to her ever since that one of Harry's homecoming. Hermione had expected it and she did not blame her but she still hoped that Ginny would not become difficult for her.

Due to the news of Grumps' death, the gossip about Harry back in Britain circulated rapidly within the hour; reporters, photographers, and protestors came trying to pry through the barricade of security and the heavily locked door of the medical ward. They proceeded to continue trying to sneak an interview or a photograph from Harry for days until the Head of St. Mungo's had threaten to press charges on them for disrupting the peace of the other patients. Hermione and the others were given passes to prove they are actually themselves and not someone under Polyjuice Potion.

One day, during her day off of the week, Hermione was taking a jog around her neighborhood early in the morning. She had started to do the exercise sometime after the war, finding out that she actually enjoyed the feeling of her blood pumping and thumping heart. She was rusty to keep her breathing steady and her stamina had decreased from the long period of time she had not jogged but she is able to hold a balanced distance. Her mind was drifting between Ginny and Ron mostly. Their reactions to what happened at the hospital was confusion yet understanding; Ginny's look of repulsion was expected but it was Ron's that has the wires in her brain tangled up. She was not expecting him to blow out of proportion like he usually did during their Hogwarts years as he had outgrown that side of him, but she was anticipating some sort of reaction that is normal coming from him.

Even in the time before she left the house, Ron was already awake and making breakfast, and she thought he might have cornered her about the subject but he just offered her a mug of coffee and handed her a water bottle for the run. He acted normal and that bewildered Hermione than ever. She wanted to ask him if what happened between her and Harry bothered him but his calm demeanor actually left her speechless and uncertain to what to do. So she kissed him on the cheek and left for her morning jog.

At seven-fifty, Hermione returned to her house. She first noticed that Ron had left for his job; Hugo had school even though he wanted to stay home 'sick'. She quickly went to shower, dressed up in a pair of Ron's old red track pants that fit too small for him now and a white long-sleeve shirt, and then she went to the kitchen to wash up the dishes from last night's dinner and Ron's breakfast when the bell rang. Hermione produced her wand as she head for the front door, cautious – it was too early for it to be a salesperson and it was mostly likely a person from church.

When she opened the door, her wand held behind her from sight, she was faced with a middle-aged man who has a horrible comb-over and a ridiculously bushy and greasy beard that almost made Hermione cringe. It reminded her of Snape's hair but as an afro.

"Yes?" she asked politely.

"G'day, miss," said the man in a surprisingly authentic Austrailian accent; Hermione had been able to identify it by the time she had spent tin Sydney with her parents after the war. "I was hoping if I can interest you and your family in a wonderful product. I can assure you it is outstanding and quite useful."

"I don't think so," Hermione said as she started to close the door. "But thank you. Have a good one."

"Don't be so rash!" the man persisted, sticking a foot through the crack of the door to keep it from shutting and then pushed it wider with a surprising strength in the arm. Hermione's grip on her wand tightened and was able to whip it to his face when he said, "Everyone needs a good set of knowledge in Cornish Pixies and what treat to lure them in for hunting!"

Hermione sputtered, "W-what did you say?"

Suddenly the man's facial feature have transformed drastically and the change seem to go in slow motion through Hermione's eyes as it became familiar; the horrible come-over puffed out into an unruly head of yellowish hair, the cringe-worth bushy blob of a greasy beard shrunk away into stubble, and the chubby spots on the cheeks, chin, and jaw tighten together into a well sculptured skin. Once he was done, the man flashed Hermione a remarkably recognizable grin of an old lost friend and a twinkle in his eyes that held the devious attitude of his mother.

"Wotcher!" he cackled. "Caught you!"

"Teddy!" gasped Hermione. She yanked the door open, not caring if it bashed into the wall, and flung herself into the waiting arms of her suburbanite son. "Oh my God! My sweet little boy! I missed you so much! Oh, you're so much taller than the last time I saw you! How you been? Have you been careful with those dragons? Is Charlie making sure you're safe? You haven't been hurt, have you?"

"Easy, Mum-Ne, you're rambling again," Teddy said with a laugh as Hermione pulled back from his arms.

"Sorry," Hermione grinned. "Come in! Come in! It's a bit breezy out here!"

Hermione held the door wide for Teddy as he entered the household, and then closed it while keeping her eyes on him, watching him as he politely slipped his combat boots off and gingerly placed them next to the door of the coat closet, making her smile approvingly. It was nice to know that he still has manners like he was raised to be.

"You want some tea?" she suggested while making her way back to the kitchen. "I can make you your favorite batch. Dragon scales and a drop of unicorn milk, right?"

Teddy followed her soundlessly. "If you put two sugar cubes in then I'll take you up on that offer," he said with the same grin that never left his face.

"One sugar, Edward," she replied half-sternly, half-playfully as she went to the cabinets and brought out one tea cup, already have made another mug of coffee for herself earlier prior to her return from her jog.

"Better than no sugar," teased Teddy then letting out a groan. "And please don't call me Edward! It's Teddy – _Teddy_."

Hermione laughed as she took out a kettle from the cabinets also then poured water in it from her wand before she turned on the stove and set it in place. He was too much like his mother, Tonks, whenever it came to using his name. She remembered how Tonks always told Remus to not call her by her birthname ("Don't call me, _Nymphadora!_ ") and she never knew that she was playing the part of Remus until Teddy was seven and he told her to not call him by his name as well ("Don't call me _Edward!_ I'm Teddy! _TEDDY!_ "). She found it hilarious that he is still trying to get her to call him by his middle name whenever she makes a slip of the tongue.

Crookshanks appeared leaping onto the counter Teddy was seated at and sat staring at Hermione with wide eyes that practically said _"Where's my food?"_ Teddy's eyes brighten at the sight of the feline and began to groom his hair with his fingers, making the ginger-furred creature to purr in delight to Hermione's surprise.

"Hey there, little Crooks!" said Teddy. "Are you still making Uncle Ron's life miserable? I bet you are!"

"He's been calmer around Ron," Hermione answered as she went to the pastry closet, picked a liver-flavored can, and went to where Crookshanks' bowl is while she popped the lid open with her wand. With a splat, the food was in the bowl and she carried it to her furry companion. "At least enough to sleep on the same bed as him. Even though, Crooks has one of his own."

"That's a miracle," Teddy said. "Last time I saw Crooks, he was rearranging Uncle Ron's face."

Hermione chuckled as she watched Crookshanks try to engulf his meal greedily. "Only because Ron accidentally stepped on his tail."

Teddy bursts out in a laughing fit. Hermione looked at him with a small smile, the sight of him being replaced with his younger self, as a wave of nostalgia crashed onto her. She can still see him as a young toddler with the chubby cheeks that seemed addictively pinchable, the little fingers that couldn't hold a cup alone, the full lips that would sputter out raspberry at people's faces for laughs, and still hear the bubbly giggles he would make at random times, making other's days brighten even in their worst. She still saw him as everyone's first baby.

"So how's everything in Romania?" Hermione asked. "Everything safe with Charlie?"

"Nothing is safe with dragons," Teddy said. "But everything is fine – _I'm fine_. Thanks to S.P.E.W's medical ward, they're actually a lot easier to be tamed. Growing up with wizards and witches taking care of them makes them feel less threatened and a lot easier to maintain control. There are some who tend to go rogue but nothing we can't handle."

"Are you being careful with those rogue dragons?"

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here," Teddy retorted with a smirk. "It's actually thanks to those dragons that I was able to find a weak point in them." He touched the side of his head. "The left ear – one touch turns them into a submissive. Found out when a dragon went lose and went after it; had to hop on that one to make sure we didn't lose him. I didn't know about it until the dragon made me lose my balance and hung on his ear for dear life."

"Edward Remus Lupin!" gasped Hermione in terror. "Are you mental? Hopping on a dragon? You could have killed yourself!"

"But I didn't," Teddy said before sourly adding, "Don't call me Edward."

"And Charlie didn't stop you?" Hermione demanded.

"Charlie wasn't actually present at the time. I was in charge in the meantime," Teddy replied. "He had to go to Hungary because locals reported sights of Hungarian Horntails clashing in the air. He brought them in to see if maybe we can try to figure them out by studying their behavior patterns. So far we only learned that the females are less hormonal, ironically."

"I'm going to have a serious talk with Charlie when I see him," Hermione grumbled. "Honestly! Letting you handle these creatures alone is the most irresponsible thing he's ever done! I'll have to remind him what would happen if I see as so much a scratch on your head! I'll ask Molly and Arthur when the next trip to Romania is so I can-"

"Mum-Ne!" Teddy said in exasperation. "I'm not a baby anymore. I'm going to be twenty next year. I've been doing this job since I was sixteen now. I know the yes and no's - the safe and danger zones - the smart choices - have common sense. I know what I'm doing, really. And I really like this job. You're just being overprotective again."

The kettle whistles loudly. Hermione sighed and swished her wand, enchanting the items, the powdered packet, the unicorn milk, and the bag of dragon scales, to combine together into one cup of freshly brewed tea. A moment later, the cup floated over to the counter and landed in front of Teddy. He quickly took a sip of his favored flavor and hummed in delight at the warmth.

"I can't help it," sighed Hermione. "Knowing you're working with dangerous creatures like dragons is stressful. Yes, you have Charlie – an expert on these things – but what about those days when you're in charge like you just told me? Charlie has been doing this job for years and there are moments in his life when he isn't so lucky. I just don't want that to happen to you. I don't want to have to see you one day with scars, burn marks, or bandages. I may not have given birth to you but I will always worry about you like a mother because I do see you as one of my children. The same reasons as Hugo or Rose if they ever choose your career as a life choice will be the same with you. You're still my little boy no matter how old you are – you always will be."

Teddy lets out a small laugh, his cheeks becoming unbearably warm. He reached across the counter surface to hold Hermione's hands in his, using his thumbs to gently caress her knuckles. The feel of his hands touching hers felt like an ancient dance that is unforgettable. It was an old sensation but the size and the calloused feel of his fingers was new. He no longer held that baby smooth skin.

"You're the closest thing I have to a mother," Teddy said softly. "I don't remember much of my baby years but Papa always said that I'd prefer you out of all the girls who took care of me – even my own grandmother. He thinks I found it entertaining how controlling, obsessive, and worrisome you are because I was always laughing. Uncle Ron thought it was because I fancied your bosoms because I always slept on them and he didn't blame me because he knew the feeling," he added teasingly with a grin.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione groaned as she blushed out of embarrassment. Teddy laughed at her feeble attempt to hide her red spots.

"Remember I used to pull your hair?" Teddy inquired. "Papa thought that's why I preferred you more because I always did that to him. I never pulled the other girl's hair – not even Grandma Molly's or Mum-Gin's. Then again, they are scary when they get brassed off."

"And I wasn't?" Hermione huffed with a slight pout. "I almost had a bald spot because of you."

"But you didn't," Teddy grinned.

"Keyword; almost."

Teddy rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea.

"So how are things with Victoire?" Hermione asked with teasing innocence and chuckled lowly as she watched the color of his hair became velvet red, matching the color of his blushing cheeks, and seeing him sputter into his tea.

"We're good," murmured Teddy as he took out his wand and transfigured Crookshanks' recently emptied bowl into a napkin to wipe away the liquid dripping from his chin, much to the cat's annoyance. "Ow! Blasted fur ball! I'll change it back!"

Crookshanks had swiped his nails across Teddy's arm; Hermione took Crookshanks and lowered him to the floor. He hissed at her angrily, his hair spiking up from his hunched back. Hermione gave him a sharp look and pointed at the exit, causing the feline to growl at her indication to leave.

"Now Crookshanks," Hermione said bossily. "I'll deal with you later."

Crookshanks growled at her once more before he complied. Teddy quickly transfigured the napkin back to a cat bowl once he was done and started to rub the scratches on his injured arm.

"Here." Hermione reached across the counter to take his arm in a gentle grasp and held one hand above his wound. " _Curationum_."

"Wow!" Teddy awed as the scratches mend together into new skin. "I remember that spell. You had to use it loads of times whenever I hung out with the kids."

"Again and again," Hermione said. "But don't change the subject – Victoire? Last time I heard, you were _snogging_ the life out of her at the platform."

"Little bugger that James is," Teddy growled. "He wasn't even supposed to be in that section of the train, to begin with."

"Oh come off it," Hermione said. "It's not the first time we caught you and Victoire in a compromising position. You two are really bad at hiding it."

"Mum-Ne!" Teddy gasped. "Why you gotta say it like that?"

"For Merlin's sake, you're nineteen and she's seventeen – soon to be eighteen," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you really think we don't know you haven't already deflowered sweet little Victoire? Why do you think Bill is so determined to keep you apart?"

"Nice to know what the family does behind my back," Teddy muttered. "Guessing if my virginity is intact or not."

"If it is still intact then where's your purity ring, Edward?"

Teddy's eyes widen in shock, glanced down at his hand, and then quickly hid it under the counter. Hermione laughed, staring at him knowingly. She had chosen to push along the tradition of her mother's side of the family to always have the children to wear a purity ring on Teddy when he was thirteen. Neither Ron or Harry have noticed that she had one herself since second year until she was twenty-one and she had to explain to Ron why her father was giving him a cold-shoulder. She had wanted to keep the secret of Teddy's ring between them but unfortunately Ron had told Bill about it when she thought about it and the day when Teddy had stopped wearing it, Bill had turned into a cold statue towards him.

"You just have to be so bloody observant," Teddy said with gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

"Language," Hermione sternly said.

"Sorry."

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember about that?" Hermione smirked. "I was the one who got that ring for you. I was even there when Harry gave you _the talk_."

Teddy shuddered. "Never speak of that again."

"Bill is probably going to try to figure out if you took it off before Victoire or because of her," Hermione remarked. "Better hope he doesn't find out she isn't a virgin. Don't worry, I'll bite my tongue if anything."

"Cheers," Teddy murmured.

"Are you here on business?" Hermione said. "I haven't gotten a report on dragons from S.P.E.W. and there are certainly no sightings of one around."

Teddy's posture changed completely. A frown took over his charming smile, his eyes glazed over in darkness, his shoulders slumped, and his red hair darkened into an ocean blue shade. He gently pushed his tea cup away from him and locked his hands together.

"Papa," he said gloomily. Hermione sighed and looked down at her hands. The only person he referred to as _Papa_ was Harry.

"I'm guessing you read the papers," Hermione murmured.

"Came here as soon as I heard," Teddy explained. "Charlie gave me time off until he's out and about from the hospital. Is it that bad?"

"Nothing that Healers can't handle but it's taking time to heal fully," Hermione answered. "A couple of broken bones, a few burn marks, bruises, scratches, and other wounds. He needs to be sedated at least three times a day so he won't be in pain and reopen his wounds."

Teddy rubbed his hands over his face and combed back his hair. "Old bloke," he grunted. "He's such an eejit sometimes."

"He'll get better, Teddy. He just needs plenty of rest."

"Since when is Papa ever one to rest? Bet'cha when he has the chance, he'll skive off to look for those blasted criminals! Do you remember why he decided I live with Grandma Andromeda? Because he doesn't want me to have to worry about me."

Hermione grimaced at the malice and antipathy she caught in Teddy's voice. She remembered that day clearly; Harry had come to her and Ron's old apartment, tear-eyed and a bitter taste in his mouth. He expressed how much guilt he had for sending Teddy away to live with Adromeda from that moment on, in fear that he might not return from a mission, and not wanting him to be the one to answer the door to an Auror with grieving news. He told them how much Teddy had screamed and kicked that he wanted to continue living with Harry and that it truly pained Harry to see his godson crying with a snotty nose and red face.

"I need to see him," Teddy said determined.

"They're not letting anyone without a pass enter the ward," replied Hermione. "Safety protocol from the Head Healer to make sure no reporters from any newsstand sneaks in."

"But I'm family," Teddy protested. "That's my pass."

"You can come with me," Hermione insisted. "I have a pass. You can be my plus-one. I'm about to head over to the hospital later."

"Cheers," Teddy sighed in relief.

Hermione reached for his hands and gently caressed them. "Papa is going to be okay," she reassured him but she was not sure if she was trying to comfort him or herself. She still cannot get the horrible sight of Harry's in that bed, battered and crippled, from her mind.

Teddy's lips twitched. "If you say that in your baby voice, I'll feel better."

"You're not a baby anymore, Teddy. You said it yourself."

"But I'll always be your little boy."

"And don't you forget it."

* * *

Hermione knew how much Teddy detested hospitals. It was number one on his least top then favorite. He never could get past the distinct eucaplyptus-latex odor or the sight of patients in bed. The hushed chattering of the Healers made him uneasy as he tried to determine what spells are being used or the colors of potions meant. Teddy never came on his own accord unless it was a happy occasion in the light of a new birth to the Weasley or Potter family, or a dreadful one, such as their visit for Harry. He just never felt proud being in the building.

The moment they stepped into the grand lobby, Hermione could tell Teddy's hair stood tall. She looped her arm around his, feeling his muscles loosen under her touch and sense him breathe out at ease. His face, once solemn and distraught, instantly relaxed into an impassive expression as they made their way down the hallway that would lead them to the lifts. Neither of them spoke a word as they entered into a lift, Hermione pushed the button, and then they waited patiently.

"Door twenty-seven and room thirteen," said Teddy unexpectedly.

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"As soon as the doors open, that's the first thing we'll see," he explained matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And the room Papa is in is room thirteen. Am I right?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Hermione replied teasingly. She remembered Harry telling her that Teddy always liked to guess the number of doors and rooms to distract himself from thinking about the vaccine shots he would get. It was odd to her but she figured nothing in her life is normal.

"Let's make a deal," he said, playfully nudging her shoulder. "If my guess is right, you have to cook me whatever I want for supper later. If I guess wrong…well, I'll cook whatever I want for you."

"That sounds like a lose-lose situation for me," Hermione pointed out, crossing her arms. "You'll end up eating whatever it is you're craving for."

"Or it could be a win-win, depending how you see it," Teddy retorted. "I know you lot missed the elegance of my meals."

"I don't think rice cake sandwiches can be considered elegant."

"I was six when I made those. I was being the creative lad I was."

"Doesn't explain the other times you did it."

"Kid at heart; never dies."

The lifted halted, stealing their attention from their easy bubble, and the doors slid open. They stepped forward to glance at two doors in sight, ignoring the confused employers who pass by them. Hermione groaned in disappointment while Teddy beamed.

"Oh yeah," he cheered as they stepped back into the lift and the doors closed again. "I win."

"Lucky guess. One for two," Hermione said. "You still need to get one more guess right to win that supper."

"Is that fear I hear in your voice, Mum-Ne?" Teddy teased.

"Arrogance won't get you anywhere, Edward," Hermione chuckled.

"Don't call me Edward!"

Once again, the lift stopped rashly and the doors opened, revealing a red-eyed Lily Potter holding a stuffed wolf. Her eyes grew wide as plates when she saw who was accompanying her aunt and then she beamed brightly.

"Teddy!" The young Potter child launched herself forward surprisingly, startling the Metamorphmagus into catching her and hoisting her up, laughing blissfully as he and Hermione left the lift.

"Lily, you got way too big, my little leprechaun!" he said as he held her by the hip.

"I can't believe you're here!" Lily admitted. "Where have you been? What have you been up to? Are you still working with Uncle Charlie? I want to go to Romania so bad! I want to touch a dragon but mummy won't let me because she says they're dangerous! But you'll be there so I'll know I'll be safe! Can you teach me how to fly on a dragon? Ooh, daddy got me a model dragon as a present and it's amazing! I can show it to you when we get home! You'll love it since you work with dragons and all that! Hugo got one too! Maybe the three of us can play with them! Mine's way better trained than Hugo has his!"

"Slow down," Teddy chuckled; Lily took the moment to regain her composure. "How can you say all that in one breath? I'd lose conscious in the first ten seconds."

"Lily, what are you doing here? Where's your mother? You should be in school," Hermione said.

"Mum took the day off for the both of us so we can visit daddy," Lily answered. "I was going to the loo. But I don't need to go anymore because Teddy is here!"

Teddy laughed and hugged her tightly, making her squeal in delight. Hermione noticed that her cheeks became pink and bit her tongue to prevent herself from laughing. She knew Lily had formed a small crush on Teddy, even though he is dating Victoire, and she knew that Teddy knew but they both are certain it will pass soon.

"How's your father?" Hermione asked.

"He's getting better," Lily answered, the color of her blush slowly dying down. "He doesn't feel much pain as he used to but he still needs to keep sleeping so he won't hurt himself."

"Did he eat lunch?"

"To the very last bite," Lily said. "But the Healers had to give him medicine afterwards. "Mum is watching over him now."

"Oh okay."

Teddy then began to tickle Lily and make bizarre faces that has her laughing hysterically, distracting her long enough for Hermione to think. She pondered whether she should just allow Teddy in the room and leave for Ginny's sake. During the days since Harry returned, since he said her name through his semi-conscious state, a rift was built between them on Ginny's part. She would not look at Hermione, talk to her unless it is to pass something to her, she would not stand near her, and when she did she would make sure there was more of a foot of a distance between them. She hardly notices Hermione's presence in the room and she would discreetly not allow Hermione to be anywhere near Harry during a visit.

It hurts Hermione that she could not be near her best friend while he is lying in bed and healing. But even she can come to sense that her life title is insignificant to the wife of Harry Potter.

Before Hermione had time to truly process what was happening or preparing for, Hermione had showed the Auror in guard duty her pass and the three of them were walking inside the room. She instantly saw the redness of Ginny's hair next to a sleeping Harry's bed, one hand holding his, cracking the male Healer a big smile, clearly striking up a civilized conversation with him while enjoying the distraction. Hermione always admired her jovial disposition.

Upon noticing their arrival, the Healer promptly excused himself, and Ginny turned her attention to them. Hermione could feel her heart beating furiously against her ribcage as she tried to calm herself under Ginny's scrutinizing gaze and prayed she would not be under the pressure of looks of betrayal and deception. But her eyes moved from her to Teddy and, if possible, the bright brown of her eyes lit up in golden delight while she rose from her chair and skipped towards him.

"Teddy!"

"Mum-Gin!" Teddy grinned as the ginger engulfed him in a big, tight hug. He patted her back light before she released him with a smile. He placed Lily on the floor and she went over to Harry's side.

"I can't believe you're here!" said Ginny.

"It's not like I come home once in a blue moon, you know," Teddy spoke. "I come around when I can and that's a lot. I'm a month early."

"That's why it's so surprising to see you here," Ginny laughed.

Hermione, noticing that she was being blatantly ignored by her sister-in-law, went cautiously to assist Lily at Harry's bed and brought a chair up next to her but she did not sit on it. She can hear Ginny and Teddy move closer to them, and she knew that it was Ginny who guided him to the bed for him to see his godfather but also because she was close to the resting raven-haired wizard. She should have gotten used to Ginny being territorial now but she cannot find it in her to grow accustomed to it being towards her.

"How is he?" Teddy asked.

"The scars and deep wounds have healed but the bones are taking their time," Ginny responded. "The pain is still there but it doesn't hurt more like it used to."

Teddy sighed, the color of his face draining into pale agony, his eyes unmoving as they stared at his godfather with sorrow. Hermione gripped the sleeve of his arm and led him to sit on the chair next to Lily while she stood behind him with her hands on the back of the chair. She watched him as he leaned forward to place his hand on Harry's arm, lightly clapping on it. She cannot see his face but she can imagine how broken his face must seem, how open he is showing his spirit must be crushed through his eyes, how his hair became whiter than snow in December, and she was actually glad she could not see. A mournful Teddy Lupin is a tragic sight but a Teddy Lupin mourning over the life of his loved one is much more calamitous.

"Idiot," Teddy sniffed; he sounded like he has a horrible cold. Hermione placed her hands on the back of his shoulders, realizing that they were trembling and sometimes jerking.

"Oh Teddy," sighed Ginny as she went to kneel beside him and gave his arm a quick squeeze. "He truly is an idiot but he's still a strong bloke. He has too much here to not recover for. He'll be back on his feet before you know it and I'm sure he'll be happy to see you here."

"What's he recovering for? To go back out there and end up here again?" Teddy snarled. "It's not the first time he ends up here and what are we going to do if the next time he's back it will be his last? What about then?"

"He's recovering to come home," Ginny said. "Just a few more days, he'll be discharged and he'll be home. There won't be a last time."

"You can't predict the future," Teddy murmured. "He's selfish. Doing the same thing over and over, not knowing if he'll come back from his bloody missions! This could be the last of his luck and the next time he doesn't something risky just to capturing a couple of pathetic, lowlife criminals, he'll probably end up getting hit with the Killing Curse and not come-"

"STOP!" screamed Lily; she was bawling heavily, her face swelled up with puffy cheeks, as she clutched to her stuffed wolf like it was her lifeline. "Don't talk like that! Just don't-" she hiccupped then buried her face in the fake fur of her plush toy.

Teddy reacted quickly; as Lily muffled her cries, he immediately lifted her in his arms and set her on his lap, cradling her like a baby while he rocked to the side, whispering hushed apologies and soothing words into her ear. He brought out a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers and used it to wipe her face as Ginny combed her fingers through Lily's hair, being her way of sustaining the comfort to her daughter.

"I'm sorry," Teddy repeated into Lily's ear. "I didn't mean it. I was just sad and angry. I'm so sorry, love."

"You're scary when you're angry," Lily said timidly, resting her head on his shoulder. "Don't do it again. Promise?"

Teddy kissed the top of her head. "I won't – I promise. Mum-Gin and Mum-Ne are my witnesses."

"If he ever breaks his promise, you can butcher him with a blundger," Ginny added, forming a small smile as she sees the young witch to giggle.

Hermione looked over at Harry; she wanted to touch him, but at the same time, she didn't. She knew that he was getting better, with the help of the many experienced Healers, but she wanted to touch Harry if he can feel that she was there, and the familiar solid green color she knew and loved would be staring at her again. She wanted him to assure her that he was fine even with the broken bones and the new scars permanent to his skin. He came back, he was no longer gone, but she still missed him.

She didn't try to even hold his limp hand because she did not want to cause a scene with Ginny when Lily and Teddy are here. She already saw what sets off Lily and she needed her mother, her family, supporting her through this harsh time, and if the littlest sign of an argument will make her cry again. Then there is Teddy. He is going on an emotional wave that he cannot seem to control once its loose and if the slightest inkling of discomfort coming from her or Ginny will probably have him raging a tsunami. So Hermione stood behind Teddy and watched the scene.

For the next hour or so, the four of them talked about what events are occurring, their jobs, Lily's daily school life, and their friends. They spoke about Teddy's relationship with Victoire, and how well it was progressing despite the displeasure of her father, Hugo and his troubles with Jamie, Ginny's strategy to slip the boggling berries in the beverages of the break room, Hermione dislike to having a hawk eye on her by Kingsley, and finally about what would happen once Harry was discharged out of the hospital. Who would watch him after the other, what he should eat, and what would happen.

Harry would grunt and toss a lot and every time he did that, Hermione really hoped that he would open his eyes from his slumber and talk to them, but it would end up with her just moving in his sleep.

By the time the clock struck six, Lily's stomach was growling louder than a wolf's howl and the other members of the Weasley came in from their daily jobs. Hermione reluctantly left the hospital with Ginny, Lily, and Teddy after they welcomed him back home and a quick small talk. Teddy didn't let Hermione or Ginny pay because of his pride, which Hermione will not understand since it was the twenty-first century, but she chose to not protest his chivalrous gesture. They went in line and bought crusty-scaled sandwiches. They took their seats after standing in line for a few minutes and began to eat as Hermione and Ginny explained to Teddy about Harry's purpose for his mission.

"Yaxley, huh?" Teddy murmured. "I remember him telling Grandma about her but it's a bit vague. But that's like years ago. I can't believe he's still hunting down this bloke."

"It's believable," Ginny laughed with a weak smile and Hermione nodded.

Lily shifted in her seat nervously. "If…If daddy's been hunting this Yaxley then he won't die, right? He's too good to die."

"Exaclty, honey," Ginny said as she stroked her daughter's hair and kissed her head. Lily leaned against her mother's chest and closed her eyes.

As Hermione cuts off a piece of her sandwich with a plastic knife, she wondered if the way Lily is acting towards Harry is the same way she looked when it came to her father. Vulnerable, lost, and scared. Or if she was like this because she is in a hospital and she heard stories from other kid's by their bad experiences. It might explained that she is nervous that her father may end up as one of those people who pass on but Hermione is not worried that Lily would end up fatherless anytime soon. She knew Harry is a strong wizard.

Teddy stood from his chair. "I need to go to the loo."

"Me too," Lily said quickly as she hopped out of her chair and sped towards Teddy's side to take his hand in her small one. "Can I come with, Teddy?"

"As long as you're potty-trained," Teddy chuckled. He turned to his two adopted mothers. "We'll be back."

"Make sure she uses the seat covers!" Ginny mentioned as the two trotted down to the direction to where the restrooms may be located.

Hermione didn't say anything as she realized that she and Ginny were alone together for the first time since Harry's return and she found she did not like it; they were being awkward, something that is not common between them, and she felt like she was suffocating from the four walls of silence crushing them. It was a dry feeling to be with Ginny and her not talking animatedly about the latest gossip in Quidditch teams or in her workplace or to gush about what kind of person she discovers a Quidditch player to be and what excellent achievements Lily did in school. Ginny was just there playing with her sandwich.

"Okay, I'll be frank," Hermione said, relieved to have finally broken the silence. "Why aren't we talking? It's been five days already and you haven't even spared me a glance. I demand to know what's going on."

"Demand?" Ginny repeated incredulously. "Last time I checked, you're not my mother and you have no right to _demand_ anything from me."

"No, I do when there is a problem going on and I'm involved in it," Hermione retorted. "And you obviously have some sort of grudge towards me and I see no point in holding it back anymore. So out with it, Ginny. Tell me what you have going on in your mind."

"You could have just asked nicely," Ginny said sarcastically. "No need to get all snippy with me."

Hermione huffed. "Will you _please_ tell me what's going on?"

Hermione waited as patiently as she could as Ginny stared at her. She wished she could be able to tell what is truly raveling in her skull like she could with Harry but Ginny's mind seemed to have a sort of shield blocking her out. She is excellent at keeping her face stoic unless she is pushed over the edge like Ron does and she is bursting out in tears – those are the only time when Hermione can tell what Ginny is feeling or if she confesses herself. Aside from that, she is a closed book.

"Why did he say your name?" Ginny asked, her tone gone incredibly soft that Hermione had to focus really hard to understand her.

"He heard me," Hermione answered with ease, glad to finally be getting somewhere with her sister-in-law.

"I know that," Ginny said. "But I mean later – after the Healer gave him morphine – he said your name instead. He only said yours. Not mum's – not Lily's – not Ron's – not even mine's. Just yours."

"I don't know how to explain to that, Ginny, I really don't," Hermione responded honestly. "All I can think of is that he heard my voice."

"But what about when _I_ spoke to him? He said your name when he heard my voice."

"He had morphine in his system, Ginny. Those things tend to make a person become loony and he didn't have his glasses so he couldn't tell who is who and with the medicine in him only made it worse. Have you spoken to him when he woke up today?"

"Hardly," Ginny mumbled. "He was still dealing with the little bit of pain and barely conscious. He was able to eat his meal before the Healer came."

Hermione nodded. "Ginny, I can assure you I didn't expect that."

"I can assure you nobody did," Ginny said sarcastically. "Husband barely awake – in pain – and the first thing he says is his sister-in-law's name. Certainly not something that happens except in those programs on the telly."

Hermione sighed. She knew that whenever Ginny used sarcasm, she is actually criticizing someone or something. She had seen Ginny use it whenever it came to the Weasley twins and when it came to Ron, it ended up with Hermione defending him, and her and Ginny not talking for nearly a week depending the words said. Hermione knew right now, Ginny was using her sarcastic attitude or her suspicion in her and Harry having a secret affair behind her back.

"Ginny, there's nothing going on between me and Harry," Hermione said.

"Seems unconvincing after that day," Ginny shot back.

"What makes you think there's something between us?" Hermione demanded. "Because he said my name? So what if he did. It's better he says the name of someone we all know instead of someone foreign."

"You wouldn't understand," Ginny scoffed as she leaned back and crossed her arms.

"Then enlighten me." Hermione rested her elbows against the table and tilted her head. "What is it I don't understand? Explain to me in a way I might."

"Alright then," Ginny moved forward, her arms still crossed and on the table. "Ever since your father has been put in the hospital, Harry suddenly has his world revolved around you. I understand that you need friends and family with you right now and I don't mind that but it wasn't until that article about you two that I noticed how close you have been getting. It's gotten to the point that he started spending a whole night with you and coming home late. I talked to Harry about it and we set out differences aside but then this happened. How can I not think there's something going on between you two?"

"You know how the _Daily Prophet_ works with stories especially when they're written by Skeeter. You work there," Hermione said.

"But it doesn't change how close you two have gotten," Ginny pointed out.

"Ginny, we've been close," Hermione retorted. "We're best friends – have been since first year. We're just closer now because we're family now. He's just being…a brother to me. Like he always has been. You mean to tell me that neither of your brothers had been around you like the way Harry was being with me?"

Ginny did not speak right away and Hermione knew she had caught her in a dead end. But a small part in her mind held a voice that screamed _LIAR!_ at her. She tried to ignore it as she stared at Ginny yet the voice seemed to become louder and louder the more she chose to not focus on it. She felt a bit shaken up to hear it yelling. The last time she heard a voice screech at her was the portrait of Sirius' mother for 'invading' her home. But this voice was different – she hadn't heard it since six year and it usually encouraged her to act on her feelings for Ron. She had heard it for several occasions throughout her years in Hogwarts for different reasons. She did not think it would come back to fight with her for old memories again.

"I suppose," murmured Ginny, her voice breaking Hermione out of her thoughts and she blinked a few times as Ginny played with the rim of her cup. "But the difference is that I'm related to my brothers – you and Harry aren't. You are related through your marriage with Ron and mine with Harry's."

"That's the only difference," Hermione said. "But it doesn't change the principle of it."

"Or the fact that you're married and it seems wrong to be that close to another committed man," Ginny shot back briskly. "The same thing I told Harry I will tell you. I don't mind him being there for you to support you because of your father but you need to remember you're not just his best friend anymore – you're a wife and a mother now. We're not in Hogwarts anymore so we're not-"

"Kids or individuals anymore," Hermione finished. "You don't need to say anymore. I get what you're trying to tell me."

"So you understand."

"Yeah," Hermione said. "I do. But that doesn't mean it will stop me from being there for Harry now. He needs me as much as he needs you too."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Don't talk like that. He won't go bad again."

"Name a time - when a mission didn't go right – that Harry didn't go bad, Ginny," Hermione remarked. "I don't want to think that way but it's true. It's been that way with him since the war."

Ginny frowned. "He's gotten better since his last episode."

"Yes, he doesn't get as many as he did from the beginning and especially not after he got his treatment, but he does get them if it truly gets to him. And with Auror Grump's death, he is most likely to -"

"Stop," Ginny hissed angrily. "He. Won't. Go. Bad. So stop talking like he already is. In fact, stop acting like you know what it's like when you don't know shite what goes through his mind."

"Ginny, I'm just worried about him."

"Then show it through your moral support, not by analyzing him."

Silence fell upon them as the two witches stared at each other with hard glares and scowls. There are only a few people in the cafeteria, as they had left to go back to their family or friend, and the Healer's breaks ended. Hermione broke her glare at Ginny when she saw two familiar figures coming their way over her shoulder and she lowered her gaze down to her half-eaten sandwich as the two chairs across from her scratched out screeches.

"Took you two long enough," Ginny chuckled, instantly returning to her good nature person, as Lily pushed her chair in. She stroked her daughter's hair and then raised a brow. "Why is your hair wet?"

"She had an accidental magic incident in the loo," Teddy explained with a laugh. "Don't worry, I cleaned it up."

"Why would you have an incident?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Lily's cheeks burned red and she looked down at her lap at her lap. "I had to pee really bad."

The table was surrounded by the amused laughter of Ginny Potter and Teddy Lupin, both sounds covering the low, weak chuckle of a confused Hermione Granger. She found it quite hilarious that her niece caused a magical chaos over the urge of urine but her mind could not stop wrapping over the voice echoing in her head that screamed at her for being a liar. She could be thinking about the facts that Ginny had told her or how their conversation ended in horrible terms yet she cannot stop going back to that voice. It scared her to no end to have the return of that irritating voice. She knew what its purpose might be but she did not want to face it.

Hermione cleared her throat and turned to Teddy. "You lost the bet. Harry's room was seventeen. You get to cook supper tonight."

* * *

Hermione and Ginny did not talk any longer after their lunch. Everyone went back to Harry's room except for Hermione. She told Teddy that she was going to visit her mother to see if she needed company and to spend the day with her at the Westfield London Shopping Centre as a way to have her out of the house. Lily was upset that her aunt would be leaving but Hermione told her when she came back that she would have Hugo and Ron with her. Ginny did not look at her when she explained her reason to leave and Hermione was conflicted now if she should care or not. Ginny was still her close friend – her only best female friend – the aunt of her children, and Rose's godmother, but she felt she cannot be in the same room with her now. She was a bit bothered by Ginny for what happened in the cafeteria.

Hermione knew that her mother did not like it when she apparates in her house without warning and she used the phone in the reception desk to call her ahead for her visit. Her mother sounded a bit shocked to hear her say she was coming at an early time because she thought Hermione was going to be at work today but Hermione quickly explained that it was her day off. Hermione was not able to stay on the phone much longer with her mother for more than three minutes before the receptionist rudely said she needed the phone back. Normally Hermione would throw back a remark at her for her unnecessary behavior but she did not find the strength to talk back surprisingly – she can assume it must be her lack of energy.

Hermione went to the one the restrooms, hid in a stall, and quickly apparated to the front door of her old home. The day was oddly darken by the looming gray clouds above and Hermione can see the lamp in the den is turned on and hears music was blasting inside before a second later it was lowered, probably her mother waiting for the sound of her arrival. That small millisecond before the music had gone down, Hermione can hear her mother was listening to Heroes by David Bowie – one of the first songs her father had presented to her. Hermione raced up to the front, knocked twice, and waited patiently.

A minute did not pass before her mother opened the door and gave Hermione a welcoming smile with open arms. Hermione gladly flung herself into them and buried her face in the sweet-scented hair of her mother's as she sighed in relief, feeling every burden pressed onto her now being pushed off with every breath she took of her mother's homey odor. She always felt like the way she used to be, as a Muggle, whenever she came home from school and is embraced with the warmth of oatmeal cookies and black coffee. Her mother's scent makes her forget that she is a witch like her father's music makes her forget her problems and she would be yanked into a world in her head where she is just Hermione Jean Granger, a Muggle daughter to Aegeus and Carol Granger.

"Is everything alright? You sounded so sad on the phone, honey," Carol said worriedly as she rubbed her daughter's back. When Hermione didn't answer, she tried to pull back but the grip her daughter has around her shoulders only tightened. "Hermione?"

"Just hold me," whispered Hermione softly into her mother's shoulder as she fluttered her eyes closed. "Please."

Hermione could hear the intake of her mother's breath and she was not offended by the sudden surprise. It was a rare sight to see her allow herself to show her vulnerability ever since she started Hogwarts. She would build a wall between her emotions and her parents to not let them worry over what she was dealing with in the campus. She only broke four times in her life to her parents since she started Hogwarts; the time when Harry had suffered from the Cruciatus Curse for the first time in fourth year, the emotional fiasco with Ron during their sixth year, the time she had finally managed to restore the memories of her parents after being apart from them so long, and then her breakdown from her talk with her mother a few days ago.

"Oh sweetie," sighed Carol. "Let's go inside."

Hermione nodded and let her mother lead her inside while closing the door behind her. She glanced around the familiarity of her home for many years as she and her mother walked together to the den. Pictures of her childhood, of her parent's college years, were hung proudly almost on every wall and framed on any table they walked by. There was no signs of her other life and she was glad about that. This home was hers before she learned she was a witch and she liked to keep the Muggle side of her close no matter how deep she is in the wizarding world. Magic is her life but this place is her home.

Her eyes were caught in the sight of the door under the stairs, the door that will lead her down to her shared sanctuary with her father, and she was tempted to hide herself in the memories stored in there but she had promised herself that the next time she stepped in that room will be when her father is awake and well. She turned away from the door as her mother took her to a couch and sat her down.

"Wait here," she said imperiously, making Hermione grin slightly; she always knew she had her domineering attitude from her. "I'm going to make some tea."

"Actually, coffee would be nice right now, mum," Hermione proclaimed. "I've been up since five in the morning and I feel like I'm about to pass out. Can I have it with three sugars?"

Carol stared at her wearily and Hermione gave her pleading eyes. She thought her mother would most likely decline her favor and let her dentist side tell her that it was a horrid treat to her teeth.

"Just this once," Carol finally said, surprising Hermione. "Only because you do look like a zombie."

"Cheers," Hermione sighed in relief.

Carol gave her another look of leery look before she turned her heel and walked out of the room.

Hermione took this moment to walk to the fireplace mantle to look at the many framed pictures, big and small, on it. The main attraction was the large family portrait taken when she was five, all of them smiling happily toward the camera, their eyes twinkling in content, stuck to the red brick wall. She looked at the row of pictures on the mantle; the first one was of her parent's wedding at St. John's Wood Church, then there were two more of the three of them in the hospital after she was born that was taken by a kind nurse, one of her at her piano lessons, and the following rest were photographs of her pre-school years. Some of those are embarrassing, especially the one when she lost her two front teeth.

Hermione decided to go see her old room. Her mother does take a while when she makes tea and coffee together. Her feet led her through the hallway to where her bedroom is, feeling like she is aging backward with every step she took, and she could imagine herself sporting the duck pajamas and the pigtails. She was glad that her bedroom was the first floor and it increased her privacy as her parent's room was on the second floor. When she opened the door, she was actually surprised to see that it was the same.

The pale pink petticoat quilt in contrast to the faded blue walls, the blood red tub chair next to the wall-covering bookshelves that holds leatherbound classic books and shelves stacked of mixed tapes and video tapes, the dangling stars next to the window, and the single full-length mirror on a wall covered with posters of The Smiths, The Beatles, David Bowie, Nick Drake, and of The Misfits. There were various others of her loved music collection. She even had some framed posters of her favorite artists from different bands next to the wall of her bed, which could be illuminated at night by. At the vanity table, she did not have makeup like most girls; there was a Polaroid camera and picture encased in glass on the surface.

Hermione walked to her bed and perched herself on the sheets as she glanced around the room with a bitter smile. It seemed so long ago since she and her parents decorated it when she turned thirteen. She looked up at the string lights hang up the ceiling above her by push pins, remembering the many times she would turn it on at night to have a late read. She turned her gaze to the nightstand and a curious thought went through her. She pulled open the one drawer and reached inside, her fingertips instantly coming in contact with a hard cover. Her smile widen into a grin as she brought out a white leather journal with a dark 'H' scratched in the corner of the cover.

The journal was a gift from her mother before she started her first year, telling her to document her special moments so she could read it and think back at it in the near future. Hermione found it to be absurd to carry a small book that contained all of her secrets and desires, living in consistent anxiety that someone may find it or get caught in the wrong hands and use it against her, but she kept it to not hurt her mother's feelings. It wasn't until she arrived at Hogwarts that she started to write in the journal, having so much emotion from entering a whole new world and learning more about herself as a witch, that she needed to express herself in some way. She figured her mother knew she would need it.

Hermione opened the cover and flipped to the first page. She smiled as she began to read her first entry:

 _September 1, 1991_

 _I don't normally do this – writing in a journal, I mean. I find it to be ludicrous and unnecessary to do this. What's the point of writing it all down when I have it committed to memory? My mother had gotten this for me as a gift and she was right keen of me keeping this so I did out of courtesy. But after tonight, I'm beginning to understand why girls in my age do this – at least some of them. Some do it to write out hopes, others do it to write out spite, and even to write out dreams they find bizarre. I'm writing because I need to make sure what I saw tonight was real, a proof of any kind if you may. A part of me feels like this is all a dream and I'm back home reading a book._

 _Anyway, how can I describe this night? I don't want to say magical because that would sound preposterous in this case. Would enchanting be the right word? No, far from it. Extraordinary? That would be the best to describe._

 _Let me explain; a month ago, I got a letter saying I was a proud student to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, oh, and I'm a witch. I know it sounds implausible – I would have thought the same thing – and I thought that letter was a prank from one of my classmates at my old school but then again why would they go through the struggle of training an owl just for laughs? Anyhow, I have too much to say. As soon as I got the letter, a person – or a wizard – came to escort me to Diagon Alley to buy my school supplies. At first, I was confused on how I'll be able to afford them but then I learned I have a family vault that has been in Gringotts for centuries. I read the books as soon as I got home. The next day I almost had a heart attack when me and my parents struggled to find the train – Platform 9 ¾. I was devastated thinking that perhaps the letter was a prank and I had actually fallen for it but then I saw this family go through some sort of barrier. I didn't want my parents to go through with me because I had a feeling that 'muggles' can't go through. The train was spectacular – I've never been on one before and the ride was lovely._

 _I met a boy in one of the carts. His name is Neville Longbottom. He's a bit odd and a little timid but he is incredibly sweet. He has a toad – Trevor, I think his name was – and he had lost it. I volunteered to help out because he was nice enough to talk to me. Along the way I met these other two lads – one was named Ron Weasley. He was a rather intriguing fellow but he was rude and more interested in the sweets he was eating. The spell he was attempting to do wasn't even a real spell. Honestly, butter mellow? I'm not sure if he was doing a joke or not. The other was Harry Potter. I read about him in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts and Great Wizard Events of the Twentienth Century. Interesting books – I recommend them. But he wasn't anything that the books described him _ actually thought he would be arrogant about his fame but the poor lad didn't even know he was in the books!_

Hermione chuckled at her handwriting. It does seem farfetched that her way of thinking toward her best friends now has changed drastically overtime. Being through too many near-death situations, vulnerable moments, heated discussions, and leaning on each other with the effects of the aftermath of the war, she could not believe that she thought down on the two boys who became the most important men of her life. She flipped through pages and read each entry, laughing at the comments she had for the lessons, about the remarks of Draco Malfoy, about Ron's eating habits, about Harry's mood swings, and her love for the many historic books she loved.

A knock came from the entrance and Carol's voice followed, "I figured I'd find you here."

"Sorry mum, I got a bit caught up," said Hermione sheepishly.

Carol entered the room, holding a mug full of steaming black coffee, and placed it on the nightstand before she sat on the bed next to her daughter. She wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and held her close while she rested her head against her daughter's.

"Not so futile now, is it?" she asked teasingly.

Grinning, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes. I'll admit that having a journal is quite useful. Some of the things here I hardly remember. I mostly think about the adventures I had with Ron and Harry."

"You must have had a lot to talk about," Carol pointed out. "The book is thick."

Hermione blushed. "I might have gone into detail with some."

Carol chuckled. She gave Hermione a chaste kiss on her temple before she climbed out of the bed.

"I'll let you have a moment to yourself," she said. "I'll be in the common room when you're done."

"Thank you, mum."

Carol gave her another kiss on the head, sent her an encouraging smile, and then she turned to walk out of the room. Hermione stared after her mother with a thankful smile, feeling happy that although she lives in a different world with much more complications, her mother still understood whenever she is feeling the urge to reminisce or having an inner battle with herself, Carol would leave the room until she searches for her. Hermione returned to reading her journal as memories of the dates flooded her mind.

But as she continued reading, she noticed that it was beginning to turn emotionally personal. Her love for the books she was fascinated by, the new spells and charms she is entertained in, and the fearful thrill of her mysterious journey with Harry and Ron – it all decreased into what has been lying within her heart and growing larger. She was slowly seeing all of her treasured desires vanish away and the main subject of her entries were about her best friend; Harry James Potter. She still mentioned Ron but it was mostly about her dark-haired best friend.

Hermione sighed and closed her journey. She was going back to dangerous territory. She placed the journal on the nightstand next to her coffee and she laid on her bed as she stared at the string light ceiling with a conflicted face. The words she used to describe about Harry were lingering in the back of her head as well as the irritating voice that came back to mockingly say; _Did you really think it was going to be over that easily? It's been there – it hasn't gone away._

Hermione groaned and rolled over to her stomach to bury her face in the fluffed pillows. She tried to not pay attention to the repeated words of the voice but it was difficult because she knew that what it is saying is actually true no matter how much she denies it. The reality of its words lies within her memories. It makes her think that the voice was still there but she did not notice it until now. She had worked hard to keep those respective memories at bay to not complicate everything between her and her best friends and it angered her to see that her control was slowly slipping at a horrid timing – she was married with children and an excellent job that gives her a nice pay.

But for some unfathomable reason, she was being consumed by memories of stolen moments she shared with Harry and the emotions that came with them.

* * *

It started as a crush. A plain and simple crush. An infatuation as Hermione would like to call it. And it was inevitable. But it did not mean that Hermione was like the other girls who were would make themselves look more dimwitted with mountains of makeup caked on their face and acted foolish to seem 'cute' to a boy for what he is seen as. She did not change herself in any way to get noticed because she did not really want to act upon what the flutters in her stomach or the quick beating of her heart. She thought of it as excitement; she has friends who actually genuinely cared about her. It was an understatement for her to feel a bit giddy to be able to share secrets and plans with another even if her friends happen to be boys.

But she knew she could not lie to herself longer that the goose bumps in her skin, the deep blushes in her cheeks, and the constant avoidance of eye contact were not part of her happiness in having friends. She knew she had developed her first crush in her life when she got to meet the real Harry. To say it was unexpected would be an enjoyable laugh as many girls in their first year have instantly caught interest in him once they saw the famous lightning scar on his forehead and the royal surname of a famous family. His legend was a given. Also he was the first youngest athlete in the school to compete in the games in his first year and he had won on the first match when he caught the snitch in his mouth. His popularity had already gone to newer heights were his incredible talent.

It was normal to feel a magnetic pull towards Harry because of that. Hermione thought the same reasons; she was still a girl and she was allowed to fascinate a person's traits. Yet she was wrong. She knew she was not enchanted by his abilities in Quidditch – she was more surprised at how rough and barbaric the sport was allowed to be – and she hardly cared about his legend – she had read it many times before and the thrill of learning the story of a powerful wizard defeating the darkest lord of history had died down. The pull she felt towards Harry was actually caused because he was just being him, not as the person he was expected to be – reckless, arrogant, spiteful, and brooding.

When she met Harry on the train and saw how he took care of himself, all sluggish and a bit bent, and learned him by name, she was actually startled by the innocence and ordinariness he showed. No scoff, no eye-roll, no boast laughter, but a slight smile and a spark of curiosity of the world he was brought into just like her. The urge to know him a bit more is what piqued her interest in him until classes started and she saw how irresponsible he was to have overslept on the first lesson. She saw him as another one of her old classmates from Muggle primary school – unmotivated and uninspired.

She had continued on with her studies, eventually bumping into him or Ron a few times, but she did not try to want to get close to him. Especially when he was hanging out with Ron and the ginger was open in showing his dislike towards her at the time. Yet her curiosity in him never faded. She wanted to get to know him, to have the privilege that Ron had in being able to talk to him animatedly, to see why he was so different to what she had been told. She was not one to believe in gossip but he was spoke about frequently that she thought perhaps those wizards and witches might have met him in some point. But she never tried to get close to him.

It wasn't until that fateful night, when she had been sent to the girl's bathroom to shed away her humiliation and shame through sour tears caused by Ron's hurtful words, that she had managed to become part of his erratic world. Hermione knows that her crush on Harry did not start because he did a chivalrous act and saved her from a troll like a knight because she found that to be degrading and simply idiotic. It was her admiration in his bravery and him as a person in general that blossomed. She had gained a great deal of respect, a sense of appreciation, for him. She paid in return to let him know about her gratitude and it was that small white lie that changed her life completely. She was showed a whole new world possibly better than magic.

Hermione fought, read, and walked alongside Harry to discover the Philosopher's Stone. During the time, she got to see parts of Harry that scared her, moved her, and conflicted her. She came to a conclusion that he was a complex child due to a dark past – his parent's death. Then came the night, when he, Ron, and her were trying to sneak past Fluffy to get to the trap door, Hermione knew right there that she had formed a crush in Harry Potter; the way how he insisted to go to the trap door first to clear it for her and Ron's safety was riveting to her. Not because it gave him the image of the hero he is idolized as, but because she saw strength of the love and care he held for her and him. He was not keeping them safe out of instinct – he _wanted_ them to be safe. He made her important, he made her worth something, and he saw her as more than a bookworm with high intelligence and bushy hair.

It baffled her and it touched her heart a lot more than she thought it possibly could.

After Harry faced Voldemort and Quirrell, and a day later after he was sent to the hospital wing, Hermione would visit him during her breaks between classes. Sometimes she would come with Ron after their shared classes. She would take advantage of the time she is able to spend alone with Harry to see if what she felt the night before was a quick phase or a permanent mark. She was proven of the latter during her visits with a healing Harry. She remembered very well what she felt that one moment she had with him.

Hermione was sitting next to him in the Hospital Wing, explaining what sorts of news about him were circulating around the school and how people were reacting to the story. She had told him that the Slytherins were trying to twist it into a parody but she and Ron were able to keep the details accurate. She would later speak about what happened during lessons.

"We have homework for the summer," announced Hermione proudly with a bright smile.

Harry grunted, disgruntled.

"Don't be so bitter, it isn't bad," Hermione said haughtily. "I think it's an excellent idea to give us work during the summer. Keeps our minds fresh with what we've learned all year."

"I just came back from battling for a stone, don't you think I should be an exception to homework right now?" Harry questioned with a groan. "I could be suffering from a mild-concussion right now and we don't even know. If I use my head now, it could get worse."

"But you're not," Hermione pointed out. "I spoke to Madam Pomfrey earlier and she says you're getting better – probably well enough to come to the feast tonight. If you can get better enough to stuff your face then you're better enough to use your head and do your work. It's only a few essays."

"How long?"

"Ten to fifteen."

Harry lets out another groan and drops his head onto the pillow as he slings an arm over his eyes. His glasses were on the table beside Hermione.

"Nice to see you have enthusiasm," Hermione said teasingly, resulting to Harry lifting his arm and giving her a glare through his lashes.

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey came in with a jug of pumpkin juice and a plate of mini chocolate bars.

"Hurry up and eat these, Mr. Potter," she said as she placed the dishes on the table next to his glasses. "Make sure he eats and drinks to the very last, Miss Granger."

"Will do."

Harry shifted himself into a comfortable upright position while Madam Pomfrey bustled back into her office without another word. He reached for his glasses then glanced at Hermione, down at the treat, and back at her again only with a lopsided grin.

"Are you going to feed me?" he asked.

Hermione's eyes widen at the blunt question, shocked that he was able to even ask her that so casually, and she can feel her cheeks heat up as she lowered her gaze down to her lap to not get caught in a locked stare with his incredibly solid green eyes. She fiddled with the sleeves of her robes, finding them to be much more interesting.

"You're not invalid, Harry," she muttered almost inaudibly.

"I know, I was just pulling the mickey out of you," he laughed heartily. "You don't have to feed me."

Hermione looked back up at the sound of his laughter, the sound capturing her attention as soon as she heard it. She hardly noticed it from the many times before but she never knew that his laughter, soft or loud, would be so astounding to listen to. It was husky, almost a bit scratchy, but it was too gentle of a sound that it was stupefying her ears in delight. It also brought her a rush of joy that he was laughing because of her. She hardly did anything but she had managed to be the cause to have him make that wonderful noise.

"Good," Hermione huffed, keeping up her composure, as she watched Harry reached for the chocolate and began to nibble on them.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked before taking another piece.

"In class," Hermione answered. "He's coming with me after Herbology. He's worried about you."

"Shouldn't it be the other way 'round? He did take a hit last night," Harry said.

"I told him that he should let Madam Pomfrey check over him for any head trauma or broken bones but he insists that he's healthy as a unicorn," Hermione retorted. "I probably would have convinced him to but we had bumped into Dumbledore before I could. Maybe I will try again later when I see him."

"I'll save him some chocolate then," Harry said. He held a piece to her. "You want?"

Hermione waved him off. "No, that's quite alright. You need it more than I do."

"It's chocolate, Hermione, not a pill. Just take it. I got plenty of more sweets to last two lifetimes," Harry remarked, nodding towards the stack of sugary boxes. He held the chocolate piece to her again. "Take it. I bet you didn't have much of a good breakfast either."

"I hardly doubt chocolate can be considered breakfast." Hermione sighed and accepted the piece with a shy smile. "Cheers."

"No problem."

Hermione did not take a bite of the chocolate piece; she watched Harry take a big sip of his pumpkin juice and devour the rest of his treats as if he hadn't eaten sweetness before. She smiled fondly at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. She liked seeing him act like a kid as he munched on the candy, capturing the wonderful moment of his angelic expression. She wondered if it be the first of many.

"Are you ready for summer?" Harry asked. "Aside from the homework and reading?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "I can't wait to tell my parents about everything. I bet they'll be ecstatic to hear about what I've learned."

Harry seemed worried. "Everything?"

Hermione caught the concern in his voice. "Oh no – not _everything_ ," she said quickly. "Just what I learned as a witch and such. I'm not going to tell them about Quirrell, the task, or the Stone. They'll never let me come back if they knew."

Harry grinned and breathed out, "Good. I already got enough talking going around in the school, I don't need it in the Muggle world too."

"My parents don't like to gossip even if I did tell them," said Hermione.

"I guess I know where you get it from," Harry chuckled; Hermione's cheeks flared brightly and she quietly ate the offered chocolate to distract herself from her racing heart.

"What about you?" she asked. "Are you ready to go home to your family?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. Don't do much back home. I'll probably end up doing the homework either way. A couple of chores too."

Hermione blinked as she watched Harry take a gulp of juice. She always wondered why Harry never spoke a word about his family or why he would change the subject if his family is mentioned either way. He did not show any hatred or sadness whenever he is asked about them but he paid no interest in them. She had heard rumors about his lifestyle but she found the stories to be incongruous that she believed them to be from Slytherin.

"Mph, hey Hermione?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Thanks for what you did," Harry said sincerely. "I don't think I would have made it past the Devil's Snare or the flames."

Hermione's lips twitched but she looked at the small chocolate crumble in her hand with a shy smile and she rolled the piece between her fingers. She was not used to getting compliments for solving a puzzle or finding useful information.

"Well, if it weren't for you finding the right key and telling us what to do, we would have been stuck in there all night looking for it," she replied.

"I just did a Quidditch strategy I whipped up in his head," Harry shrugged. "Nothing big."

"It matters," Hermione retorted truthfully. She actually consider it to be admirable and praiseworthy how Harry took charge in the last minute of the task and then later willing to sacrifice himself to make sure she and Ron stayed alive.

Before either could utter a word, Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, her face stern but gentle.

"It's been over five minutes, Miss Granger," she said. "You need to get going."

"Alright, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione frowned; the nurse went back inside her office. Hermione slung her robes on and picked up her bag from Harry's side. "You best rest up, Harry, or you'll never be able to go to the feast. It won't be the same without you there."

"Maybe it's better that I stay here," Harry murmured. "Everyone is going to look at me like I'm Fluffy."

"No – you're going," Hermione told him strictly with a sharp look. "People have been talking about you all year once they found out who you are and that never stopped you before. Just because there's talk about you buzzing around, doesn't give you a reason to hide in here. And if you dare try to stay here then I will come here with Ron and we'll drag you to the feast."

Harry shivered while giving Hermione a frightened look. "Ron was right. You really are scary. Brilliant but scary."

Hermione smiled in triumph. "So you will come to the feast."

"I will. Only because I'm scared what kind of hexes you might know."

Hermione laughed. She moved closer to Harry to give him a quick hug, noticing that he was hesitant to recuperate the gesture, and she tried to not make it obvious that she was slightly troubled with the thought that he must be embarrassed that she is the one who is embracing him or he was bothered with the idea of her being too close to him. She immediately released him and straighten out the small wrinkles in her robes.

"I'll see you at the feast then," she sighed. "I'll even make sure to get your work from lessons and you better do them over break."

Harry's eyes twinkled as he broke out another grin at her and Hermione sputtered a little at the sudden bubbling sensation building up inside her like a boiling pot. She can feel the warmth from it spread out to every edge of her body; her blazing blood made her heart pulsate quicker and her face to become a special shade of red. She was frustrated in herself for having such a reaction over a simple smile she had seen many times the whole year; she felt like her infatuation on Harry was beginning to change her way of acting around him and she needed to get used to them soon.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"Fine! – I'm fine!" Hermione answered hurriedly. "I got to get to class now! I'll see you later, Harry! Get better!"

Promptly, Hermione recollected herself, gave him a vague smile, before she fled from the hospital wing in a flash. She hoped that what feelings she is getting because of Harry would be temporary as she does not have time to focus on boys or hormones – books, education, and careers are what she should be chasing for. A boy would not give her a life of success and independence.

She probably would have forgotten about her crush on Harry later that night, maybe have moved on and look back to laugh at the thought of her acting so childish or Harry considering in seeing her as a girl to blush about, but then she had decided to give him her first kiss as her way of showing him how thankful she is for all that he did and out of curiosity.

Hermione actually made her crush worse because she could not stop thinking about how addictively luscious and startlingly smooth Harry's lips felt on hers all summer.

* * *

Second year was when she learned a terrible lesson that she can be wrong about some things in life. All summer break, while she was on a trip with her parents in France, she had managed to convince herself that her feelings for Harry were her hitting puberty early as she had gotten her first period two months after school ended and she figured it was her hormones raging wild because Harry was an attractive boy. But she was a bit upset that he hadn't responded to any of her letters. She was at ease for the remains of her vacation until she went to Diagon Alley and met up with Harry at the edge of Knockturn Alley with Hagrid.

Hermione was pleased and relieved to have been able to meet up with her first friend again especially after she was explained about the situation of breaking Harry out of his home on his birthday. It was normal for her to have missed him as well as she missed Ron but when she saw him, she had turned sheepish at the sight of her; covered in soot and ashes from head to toe, his glasses battered and cracked, his hair in disarray from rubble, and then his lopsided grin when he saw her. He was a complete mess, something that she was not expecting in their reunion, but she saw it to be a rather charming mess. And the way how deeper his voice had gotten as he spoke his happiness in seeing her and thanking her for fixing his glasses yet again with the same spell as the year before, she had felt her heart skip a beat for the first time in her life.

During the new school year, Hermione was introduced to the absolute definition of fear, courage, and embarrassment when it comes to Harry. His astonished looks to the depths of her knowledge in their lessons together made her feel good about herself because she knew she was not only benefitting herself but also for him as she given their house great amount of points. Her fear had started the night he was hearing voices in the walls, the hissing sound of the basilisk that has been later petrifying the Muggle-borns of the school. But the day Harry was injured during the Quidditch game against Slytherin, she thought she would get a heart attack – the way how he was in anguishing pain from the broken arm and the way he threw himself to catch the snitch – and she was secretly angry with him but her concern over his health overtook it.

Then afterwards when they took the Polyjuice Juice to gain information from Draco about the Chamber of Secrets, she felt incredibly ashamed that she had gotten Mrs. Norris' hair and turned into a cat – she had to be in the Hospital Wing for a week and miss many lessons. Ron and Harry would visit her to see how she is, much to her pleasure, but their visits were different whenever they are together or alone. Ron would actually share his meal with her and try to make her laugh by cracking a joke about her cat face and cat, but it would result to them arguing. With Harry it was different; he would bring her extra notes from her classes, even the ones she doesn't have with him, some volumes from the library that he thinks she would be interested in, and then stay with her until his next class. When the three of them are together, they would have a fantastic evening even when Harry had discovered Tom Riddle's diary and they discussed about it.

Hermione did not want to sound selfish and she was horrified in herself for thinking in such a way; she wanted to stay in the Hospital Wing longer to have more of those moments with Harry alone. She never allowed others to take care of her except for when she was ill as younger kid or the first few times she cried because she was being bullied. But she never had been under the care of a friend before, especially a boy who she had taken a fancy to, and she was not planning to be in a position again in the future, however, she did enjoy taking advantage of it in the meantime. It was a memory she would never want to forget:

Hermione had got woken up by Madam Pomfrey for her breakfast and daily medicine, and she was enjoying a steaming bowl of porridge, wishing that she was well again so she could return to her lesson schedule and wondering how behind she had gotten due to her mistake, when the door had creaked open, revealing a groggy Harry Potter with tussled hair and rumpled school robes. His glasses were askew; he was carrying five thick volumes that made him seem small and he also had a plate resting on top of the pile which Hermione could smell a heavenly arousing aroma.

"Harry! Good morning!" she greeted happily as he approached her and placed the books on the chair he had used on his last visit with Ron.

"G'morning," said Harry. "How are you? Feeling any less of a cat?"

"Much better, really. I'm not coughing up anymore hairballs. Thank God for that too. My throat was beginning to hurt – feels like a carpet burn," Hermione replied. A slight movement was seen under her bed covers before they were flipped off and a long, dust-colored tail was seen wiggling around. "Erm, the tail is going to take some time, I'm afraid," she muttered shyly.

Harry chuckled with his trademark grin, the sight making Hermione to blush unexpectedly and glance down at her porridge as she moved her spoon within it. The blueberries – which Madam Pomfrey remembered to be her favorite – sunk into her breakfast.

"Where's Ron?" she asked.

"At the Great Hall," Harry answered while sitting on the unoccupied chair next to the tower of books. "I think they're serving buttered-bacon. You know how bonkers he gets with those. He'll probably come by soon."

"Did you eat breakfast?

"A bit." Harry took the plate from the top of the stacked books and gently placed it on the tray on Hermione's lap next to her bowl; scrambled eggs next to a waffle with whipped cream and strawberries, and two slices of regular bacon. "Figured you'd be hungry as well."

"Oh, thank you, Harry," Hermione breathed out in disbelief. "But you didn't really need to do that. I was perfectly fine with just the porridge."

"Alright, then I'll guess I'll just take this…" trailed off Harry as he reached for the plate almost greedily but before he could touch it with his fingertip, Hermione had inched it further away from his grasp.

"But you were kind enough to bring it to me so I suppose I have no choice but to eat it," she added, making Harry to laugh. She started to eat the breakfast, purring in delight at the delicious taste of eggs and strawberries. The whipped cream felt good as it went down her throat.

"I brought you some books as well," Harry said. "Um, I told Madam Pince about what happened and she recommended these in your case since she saw what kind of books checked out." He held them up to her as he announced what they are; " _My Life as a Muggle_ – _Cheering Charms_ – and _A History of Magic_. I asked one of your dorm mates to see if you got any copies you love to read much about since I'm not allowed in the girl's dormitory, and she came out with these – _David Copperfield_ and _Hogwarts: A History_."

"Oh Harry," said Hermione softly. "This is incredibly generous of you. Thank you so much. Now I can get back on track again. I'm basically seven hundred pages behind in total."

Harry scratched his neck sheepishly. "Take it from one who's been stuck here more than once. You do tend to get bored. Figured it's better reading than losing your sanity."

Hermione's cheeks flushed deep pink. She was not sure if he knew that he had looked directly in her eyes as he said that and she was not certain if he noticed that streaks of the rising sunlight were beaming into his face in a perfect angle that made the green of his eyes become brighter, making them seem like two shining pearls. She did not want to think dramatically about the small detail but she cannot stop herself from thinking how beautiful they looked to her.

"Well, this is certainly a relief to me," she said sarcastically. "It sets me at ease to know my sanity is in great care at your hands."

"Let's see how long it takes 'till I lose mine's."

"Oh you!" Hermione flicked a piece of her waffle at him, shaking her head, whilst he laughed. She smiled, "Have you figured out about the diary yet?"

Harry sighed. "Not yet. I'm still trying to figure out who got in the girl's lavatory in the first place. So far, there's nothing. The whole thing is completely blank. Just a bunch of worn out pages."

"I'm sure there's something in it," Hermione said. "It's the best clue we've got and it might lead us to who's truly the heir of Slytherin. Right now all we know is that it belongs to Tom Marvolo Riddle – have you checked around to see if there's history about him? Ron said that he saw the name on the trophy from fifty years ago. Have you tried to look up records on him?"

"I don't even know where school records are," Harry muttered.

"Have you checked the Headmaster's office? Or maybe you could go in the Slytherin's dungeon again. Deputy Houses have records of students in their houses."

"No more Polyjuice, 'Mione. I'm still trying to get my stomach to digest normally again after the last one."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wasn't going to suggest that - I was going to say to use your father's Invisibility Cloak. But now that I think about it, perhaps it's best that you don't because Crabbe and Goyle reported seeing 'doppelgangers' of themselves. Professors came in asking me if I knew about that a few days ago."

Harry groaned as he tilted his head back and ran his fingers through his hair out of irritation. Hermione was stunned at the hasty craving to feel his hair, wondering if it was soft despite its appearance of sloppiness and bedraggled strands. She was always agitated her how disheveled it looked throughout the day but now that she is fixated on it, she finds that the unkempt look suited him and brought out an alluring light in him.

"We'll find a way," Hermione encouraged.

"Hopefully soon," Harry murmured. He rose up from the chair and stretched out his arms. "We can't risk any more people getting petrified."

"Thirty-seven percent of the school are Muggle-born, give or take who is new or graduate this year," Hermione said. "Maybe this basilisk is going in a pattern. First it was Colin and he is a first year – Justin is a second year so it's most likely the basilisk –"

"Is going after a third year," finished Harry.

Hermione nodded. "Precisely."

"But Hermione, there's more than one Muggle-born in each year," Harry responded. "Why pick off one out of the rest? Unless those people have a link to why the attacks are happening."

"I don't think there really is a link. The attacks are happening because of their blood status and the only thing we know is that it's caused by the heir of Slytherin," Hermione pronounced. "Perhaps Justin wasn't meant to come across the basilisk. He was just there at the wrong time. It was probably tailing a first year when Justin came in the way."

"We can't be too sure," Harry said. "What if the heir has a bad history with Muggle-borns. Maybe it had some sort of rift with Colin and Justin. Or maybe it's all at random because they are who they are."

Hermione's eyes widen in fear. "Harry – oh please don't – don't say that. We don't even know how this basilisk is going around without being seen."

Harry seems to realize what kind of affect his words did to her; he quickly went to Hermione's side and tentatively, hesitantly, took her hands in his, caressing her knuckles with shaking fingers. Hermione made a tiny smile as she stared down at their tangled hands, loving the view of hers being engulfed in his, and the trembling going through her tendons from the slight caresses of his fingers. Then she realized how warm and tender she felt in his grip, and she pulled her hand back whilst she glanced at her breakfast tray. Harry also saw how she was acting and looked away with an uncomfortable expression.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay," she whispered quietly.

The young witch and wizard then jumped in shock when they heard the door to Madam Pomfrey's swing open and the nurse came out. She had the same strict face that many students recognized her by whenever they are under her aid.

"Mister Potter, you need to leave," she told him. Her eyes flickered over to the brunette. "Miss Granger, you need to take your medications."

"Yes Madam Pomfrey," Hermione sighed.

"I should get going. Lessons are gonna start soon. I'll bring you some more notes and any homework if we have any," Harry said as he got up from the bed.

"Make sure to do extra for Charms and Herbology," Hermione said hurriedly.

Harry grimaced. "I'll try," he reluctantly agreed. "Get better Hermione. Have fun with your tail."

"Harry – you – oh you!"

Harry laughed pleasantly as he dodged the chunks of waffles and scrambled eggs being tossed at him on his way to the door. He shook his head to whip out the pieces stuck in his hair, much to Hermione's amusement. He gave her a promising grin and a quick wave before he walked out of the room.

Once she was sure he was gone, Hermione formed a tiny smile and blushing lightly as she stroked her hand, still feeling the skin of Harry's fingers lovingly caressing her knuckles. His hand was calloused but the gentleness he used to bring comfort to her because she felt afraid to be the next victim to be petrified. He never did such a physical act on her before and he probably did not realize that he was doing it, but she found that she did not care whether he did or not; she absorbed the compelling emotion. She can still see her hand shaking and her nerves tingling – it was weird, and it daunted her, yet she loved it. It was new and surprising.

As Madam Pomfrey put together the ingredients for the medicine potion, the door was pushed open again and a blur of floppy ginger hair come across the room.

"Hey Kitten!"

Hermione growled in aggravation and send a murderous glare at the redhead. "RON! IT'S NOT FUNNY! GET OUT! – GET OUT NOW! MADAM POMFREY!"

Hermione was able to leave the Hospital Wing and get back to help Harry to figure out the mystery of the basilisk until on May 8th she, along with Penelope Clearwater, came across with the wanted creature through her mirror and she became petrified. She was glad that before her horrible fate took place that she was able to pull out a page that will later help out Harry with his journey. She was lonely during her time being petrified but the warmth in her hand never left.

* * *

Third year was too complex for her with the many events that happened at once; Dementors terrorizing the Hogwarts Express in search for Sirius Black - Professor McGonagall giving her the Time-Turner at the beginning of the year – her taking extra classes – the situation of Sirius being an escaped convict and the most hated man in the wizarding world – her fear being known to her year on her first class of Defense Against the Dark Arts by a boggart – Sirius breaking into Hogwarts searching for Peter Pettigrew – then the drift between her and Ron and Harry over the Firebolt incident.

It was her worst year yet.

Her problem with Harry over the broomstick had ended as soon as Harry got the Firebolt back from McGonagall but it was her conflict with Ron that made her confused. She did not know when it happened or how but it was not until Ron turned his back on her and end up fighting with her over Crookshanks that she realized she had also formed similar feelings for him like she has for Harry. She found out when she began to wish the silence around her was broken by a snide remark, an announcement of hunger, or an obvious question from Ron. She never knew she could have gone mad over a peaceful quietness she had once craved for daily yet Ron had changed her liking. But he was also hurtful to her; he would accuse her for being the reason why Scabbbers (Peter Pettigrew) is always in danger because she is the reason why Crookshanks was around and then he took every opportunity he could to make her feel guilty and send her off crying.

Hermione never shed so many tears over the harmful words of a boy out of spite. But Hermione knew that it meant more because, not only is Ron one of her best friends, he is the boy who is managing to wiggle his way into her heart and pushing Harry out. Or she thought he did.

Throughout the time Harry and Ron were shunning her, she had stumbled upon a scene she was not expecting two hours after curfew. She had been curled up in the temperate warmth of her comforter, quietly crying into her pillow as she thought about the whole day of Harry and Ron avoiding her existence and ignoring her protests to what plans that have been planning, when she remembered she had forgotten her book, _Rune Dictionary_ , in the common room. She had fled to the dormitory as soon as she saw her angered friends come through the entrance because she was too tired to go through another session of snubbing her.

The time she reached the bottom of the staircase, she was given the sight of Harry slumped over the chair nearby the fireplace. His head was angled in a way that seemed uncomfortable and likely to give him a sore neck in the morning. He looked small in his pajamas and his checkered sweatpants looked like they were going to slip off soon. She figured they must be another set of hand-me-downs from his overgrown abusive cousin.

Hermione quietly walked over to him on her toes and once she reached him, she got to see a scrunched up face in confliction instead of the usual restful one she would see whenever she caught him sleeping. He seemed like he was having a terrible nightmare with the way he would twitch and rapidly mumbling something that sounded close to " _woman…stop…scare…_ " She wondered if he was thinking about that scream of a woman he told her he supposedly heard the day the Dementors invaded the train.

Cautiously, Hermione gently shook Harry by the shoulder while she whispered, "Harry, wake up. You need to go to your bed. _Wake up, Harry_."

However, Harry didn't even budge – not even the slightest of reaction to her touch. Hermione stepped closer and kneeled beside him as she placed her hand on his knee, shaking a bit harder.

" _Harry_ ," she whispered a little louder only for him to hear and hoped that nobody, not even the Prefects, could hear her through their floors.

To her surprise, Harry made a low groan and waved his hand at her like he was trying to shoo away a bug. His hand reached down to his bare feet, blindly searching for a quick minute, before he let it go limp and he started to lightly snore as he fell back into unconsciousness. It was then Hermione noticed an old quilt pooled around the leg of the chair.

"Why do I bother?" Hermione asked no one in particular.

She didn't want to keep trying and failing; she went to the couch to retrieve one of the velvet pillows and collected the quilt from the floor before she carefully rearranged Harry to a much more comfortable position – as much as she could in the chair. She slipped the pillow under his head, fluttered the quilt over him, then slowly slipped off his round glasses and placed it on the coffee table. She took her book, which she realized she had left on the same table, and looked back at her sleeping friend.

A part of Hermione, the logical side of her, was against her for doing such a kind thing to the same boy who turned his back against her and avoided her like a plague over an object that could have ended his life. It told her many reasons why she should have just taken the book and left him in the state he was originally in – he didn't believe her – he yelled at her – he was unappreciative of her effort to keep him safe – he was inconsiderate of her feelings – he was partially the reason why she cried every night and sometimes in the daytime in the bathroom – he valued a broomstick more than his friendship with her – and he chose Ron over her in a snap.

However, the other part of her had somehow managed to overthrow the common sense in her with one simple and inexcusable reason; she could not leave him because he was Harry, the boy who became her many firsts. It was pathetic for her to remain faithful by his side when he was able to leave hers in a heartbeat out of rage yet it seemed knowledgeable at the same time. From the day he saved her from the troll, even to now, he had won her loyalty. He showed her why he should be trusted, why she is much safer next to him than alone, why she feels much powerful beside him than her books can, and why he is worth more than a friend to her. After the outburst of the Firebolt, her loyalty to him should have been lost but she could not find it in her to break away from him – she was bound to him, practically sired.

Hermione knew she never left him because she cared about him deeply as a friend – he is her very first friend ever. But she also knew that it was her spellbinding feelings that make it unbreakable for her to crack through. She thought she was over Harry because of her slowly developing feelings for Ron yet seeing him there, lying pitifully on the chair, all muscles tighten with suspension, she can see that although she is beginning to feel for another, she cannot stop what she has for him.

Hermione made a move to walk away then halted and looked back at Harry with contemplation. For months she has been doing the unselfish deeds to make sure Harry is kept away from danger despite him giving her the cold shoulder, and she knew that she was not going to get repaid for her many tries. She knew she shouldn't because it was a risk that could very well end their friendship for good or make everything too awkward between them that they could not stand to look at each other in the eye again. But she was going to take the bait either way – those lips of his were tempting with the way how they're parted and looked inviting.

Clutching the book to her chest, Hermione lowered herself until her face was hovering above Harry's, her mouth a few centimeters apart from her experiencing the second kiss of her life. Her heart was beating too fast that she could no longer feel the thumping, she was shaking in anticipation to see if he still taste the same and nervous that she might wake him up halfway, and she was holding her breath. After a moment – without another thought of hesitation – not thinking that another student may walk in at any second – not worrying about Harry awakening from his slumber – she licked her lips and allowed herself to press forward to kiss him.

A burst of emotions exploded in from the single brush. The first she noticed was that his lips were chapped than they looked. It did not bother her because the roughness of his flesh was made up by the gentleness of the kiss. It was weird to be tasting his lips again after two years since their first kiss, yet she felt all the feelings she got from the first time. It was warm, it was captivating. Something she was expecting but she could not seem to feel prepared for. It caused a beaming heat in her chest, filling her heart, before it spread out in the rest of her body.

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she pulled away with a small gasp. She stared at him steadily, still leaning over him as she did, placed a hand on her chest to feel the speed of her now uncontrollable beating heart. The sound of Harry's breath hitched made her freeze. She felt her skin get tight and heat up simultaneously, and she never knew it was possible that she could get goose bumps while being warm.

The sudden surge made her step back a bit while she continued to stare at him, seeing that his eyes were still cold as she slept away. Then her eyes widen when he did a move readjust himself on the chair and ended up with his head leaning over the armrest as well as his legs. The pillow somehow managed to stay under his head but the blanket had slipped down to his waist. Hermione bit her lip; whether he was consumed in sleep and it was his body reacting to what had occurred or not, it was causing her urge to kiss him again become improbable to control.

Instantaneously, Hermione snuck to the staircase and scattered back up to her dormitory. She could confirm that she had not moved on from Harry despite her growing feelings for Ron and her life has turned much more perplexing if possible.

* * *

Fourth year was difficult for Hermione. It was full of excitement and confusion in feelings. Hermione liked to call this year as the time she sealed her fate and belonged with Ron. She had to let go of Harry for her sake and her friendship with her two best friends.

The most crucial event Triwizard Tournament was revived again for the first time since 1792 and along with the Yule Ball on Christmas night. At first, Hermione thought it could possibly be her first year to act like a normal witch student and experience all the normalcy that comes to her age but she knew better with her being the best friend of a targeted Harry Potter that all things that are abnormal is considered normal to her now.

Hermione knew a few days after the Goblet of Fire spewed out Harry's name that her feelings for Ron were being reciprocated; he was always glaring at Harry whenever he spotted her with him, he would lash at her out of his anger for Harry, he would even grumble under his breath during the classes he shared with her, however, throughout those moments he still held a glint of longing in his eyes as he stared after her, like he wished he was the one with her. There was also his sudden change in perspective on Viktor Krum, a Quidditch player he admired, when said wizard showed his interest in her, and Ron would accuse her for 'fraternizing with the enemy'. Hermione knew he fancied her – his transition in his treatment towards her would make no sense if he didn't have a reason. He was probably going through the confusion to figure out what he is feeling.

Except, before Ron came around, before she noticed his matching feelings, Hermione was furious at him for not believing in his own best friend and moving along with the crowd of ridiculing students to wallow away in his pitiful jealousy and pettiness. He had believed in Harry to be a fraud, an attention-seeker, and not once considered to acknowledge the truth beneath the pile of rumors. She had lost all respect for her fellow housemates and her feelings for Ron were dying with each passing day yet she cannot stop being a bit sadden by the lack of the third presence of their group.

Although, for the next several days, even though she was supposed to be the one to comfort and fill in the void, Harry was actually the one who was helping her not think about Ron. She does not know how he and Ron were able to shun her in the previous year without having guilt gnawing on her or going through a second without wishing Ron was there with them. But Harry was able to keep her busy with helping him on a task in the tournament, with his assignments, his exams, and how to perform a spell correctly. Ron never went through her mind when she was with Harry and she was grateful for that – she did not want to drown in sadness anymore.

Hermione felt selfish for enjoying her moments with Harry when he is being kicked down by the student population and yearning for the appearance of his first best friend. She tried the best she could to keep him distracted like he is unintentionally doing to her and she knew she was failing awfully as his posture still stayed the same since he became a champion; wearing an emotionless mask to keep his rage and depression from leaking out. It wounded her heart how abandoned he let himself look. She knew he must have felt like he was back to his primary years and she wished she never caught the glimpse of his previous life because it was too heartbreaking and full of despair.

Still, she can see that, despite the isolation getting to him and his lack of cheerfulness, his eyes would make a spark of his old self whenever he would see her come to walk next to him without a sign of hesitance in her step and she loved seeing how much he relied on her to be his solace through the storm. She tried not to feel giddy at this but he made it difficult as he clung to her like she was his source of life, like he was afraid that she might disappear. She loved the feeling that came from him depending on her and confiding in her to try to get Ron to change his act. She felt trusted, worthy, and special. Harry always made her feel like that.

Her delightful time with Harry, however, was shattered by a fleeting second she caught when she had turned to look at Harry. They were walking their way to the library to continue practicing the Summoning Spell and see if there are other alternatives that may be useful to Harry for the first task when they came across with a crowd of Ravenclaw females. They were cruel to them – scowling at Harry, whispering profanities towards him and giggling snobbishly while walking by, and also towards Hermione because she was with him. She ignored them and proceeded forward to the library until she realized Harry was planted on the spot while he gazed after the Ravenclaw group with an odd glint in his eyes that was unrecognizable.

It did not take Hermione long to figure out why Harry's eyes kept settled on the group and what was shining off in his green emeralds; he was holding a craving affection towards Cho Chang.

Hermione felt like she was being trampled endlessly as the reality of things came crashing down on her. She knew better that one out of the three of them were going to meet people along the way that catch their eye but she mostly anticipated it to happen sometime late in their fifth year at least. She supposed attraction run quicker for boys once they already hit puberty. And now she knew why they called it a crush. It was a fragile glass that is balanced on a pedestal and the smallest shove that could tip it over will make it buckle then shatter into a thousand pieces. Is that how her heart is supposed to feel if its broken? She did not know certainly as it may be her first.

From that moment on, Hermione chose to let go of Harry and help him try to get the girl he fancies. She felt like a captive to him, to keeping his happiness new and continuously, to stay rooted by his side no matter what she feels, how bad the damage she gets is, or how terrible the journey may get as Harry grows because her loyalty ran that deep when it comes to him. And she needed to escape from the wrong reasons why. She needed to let go her feelings for him – she needed to let go of Harry. She needed to think of herself now. She will always put Harry first when in danger or under the attack of bullies and the law but she needed to start learning to consider her feelings now. Besides, it wasn't like Harry would look her way twice.

It wasn't until after the first task, after Ron came around and was accepted with open arms, the Yule Ball took place.

The boys were miffed to be forced into an event where they have to dress up in formal gowns and act properly stiff for hours while the girls were overjoyed to have the opportunity to have a night to be able to spend it with a boy who caught their heart and bring out their inner beauty. Hermione remembered how neutral she felt when this was announced; she was disgruntled at the fact that she had to wear heels, something she was not fond of, but she was thrilled to have a night where all the stress of the tournament could be forgotten with laughter, possibly spiked drinks, and dancing to a live band. She will be a teenage girl again.

Hermione tried to make it obvious that she wanted Ron to ask her to the ball – she rather go through her first dance with someone she was comfortable with and take a chance to further their feelings – yet he never caught the subtle hints she played out to him.

She was given a surprise when Viktor Krum came to her during one of her usual study sessions in the library and asked for her hand on a date. It was a chivalrous, very gentleman proposal, and it warmed her heart how he only saw her for her instead of going after the other beautiful witches who had taken a shine to him. She always noticed him stealing not-so-discreet glances at her from time to time and she always thought it was because he was actually shy to befriend her, not because he was adoring her. She told him she'll think about it and he was respectful to her choice although he gave distinct indication that he hoped she'll say yes. She felt bad that she was leading him on but she truly wanted to go with Ron even if she ended up asking him.

Her wait made her go mad with desperation and misery. Ron still hasn't asked her to the ball while he was on his search to see who is best enough to be his date, much to her dismay that some of the ones he deliberate could be mistaken as a model or a walking Photoshop picture. And then there is Harry; he wanted to ask Cho Chang to the ball but didn't have the courage to approach her and the other girls who desired the popularity that came with his title would take advantage of his hesitance to ask him to the ball. Hermione was pleased to see or learn that Harry would reject them but then she would crush the feeling before she got too caught up in it.

Eventually Ron did ask her to the ball but in the most crudest and obnoxious way ever possible. She felt offended by him for finally noticing her as a girl when another pointed it out and his proposal was blunt. She shot out a rejection and declared she already said yes to a date before she went off to look for Viktor and accept his offer. She was fuming at Ron throughout the days, taking in satisfaction that he is slumped out of options for a date whenever she saw him but she also felt somber because she took in realization that she no longer has a chance with Ron.

Thinking about Ron made her think about Harry. She mulled over whether he finally managed to ask Cho Chang to the ball and the thought didn't settle in with her too well. She did not like the image of Harry, of his hair, his face, his lips, all of him, being consumed by her, being entangled with hers in the heat of the dance floor. She felt sick in her stomach. Her fingers in his hair, his face illuminating because of her alone, and his lips being kissed – she could not think about it. She did the best that she could do and read books after books until she was drawn into the world of knowledge.

And then her bubble of self-comfort was popped when Harry came to her one day with a request she least expected. She remembered that day perfectly; she was in the common room, reading _Spellman's Syllabary_ before the portrait was heard opening and came crawling in a frantic Harry Potter, who later seemed relieved to have spotted her sitting near the fireplace.

"Hermione!" he rejoiced. "I need to talk to you!"

Hermione sighed and looked up at him with a tired expression as she closed her textbook. "What is it, Harry?"

"Erm, is this a bad time? You look a bit…um…tired," he said.

Hermione waved him off. "It's nothing. So what's up?"

"Um…" Harry hesitated, looking down at his feet while scratching his head and his cheeks suddenly becoming bright pink. "You see…it's about…the Yule Ball, actually."

Hermione's eyes widen in awe, her mind reeling in disbelief at probability to what is transpiring; _He isn't..? Certainly, he's not going to..? No, he's not!_

"H-Harry…I…I-I already have a d-date," she stuttered nervously. "I already said this last time."

Harry raised a brow at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Wait…aren't we..?" Hermione gestured a hand between them, trying to silently asking whether or not they were in the same chapter.

Harry's eyes grew wide at the realization and then his blush became heavy. "Oh…n-no! I wasn't trying to – I know you got a date – you said so – I'm not asking you to the ball!"

"Oh." Hermione hung her head in embarrassment. "Well, anyway…what about the Yule Ball? Did you finally manage to snag a date?"

"No, not yet," Harry muttered solemnly and Hermione was befuddled on whether she should be glad for herself or upset for him. She can clearly see that he was disappointed to not be able to find the strength to ask Cho and the latter side of her won over as she stood up to lend him a comforting squeeze to his elbow.

"Then what's wrong?" Hermione asked. "You're not planning to not show up to the Ball are you? Harry Potter, you are not allowed to skip such an event as this! You're going with or without a date – one way or another – nothing to you do will stop me from getting you to go to that –"

"Hermione – _Hermione!_ " Harry interrupted. "I'm still going to the Ball."

"Then what's the problem?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer but then he closed it while he gave her a troubled look through his striking green eyes and then sighed softly as he looked back down at his feet. Hermione frowned and waited patiently although she was actually impatient on the inside to learn what is causing his silence. She was in a sour mood. After a minute, Harry mumbled out something that Hermione could not understand.

"Pardon?" Hermione questioned.

Harry responded with a grumble along the lines of "know…help…" and stuffing his hands in the pocket of his trousers.

"Harry, just tell me!" Hermione demanded, her impatience finally flaring out of her.

"I…I don't know how to dance and I need help!"

Hermione blinked, taking in the frantic eyes staring directly into hers and the pleading face. For a second, she thought she could see the face of a younger Harry Potter begging for an extra bowl of ice cream or wanting to know something about his parents. He looked so innocent and desperate for the new in Hermione's mind.

Harry took her silence as a sign to continue and sighed, "I realized that since it's a ball, I'll have to dance and whoever will be my date will want to too. I never danced in my life. I was wondering if you could teach me enough steps to not send her to the Hospital Wing with battered feet or worse."

"You're exaggerating, Harry," said Hermione. "You make it sound like you could kill her with a stomp on the foot."

"It's possible."

"It's unlikely."

Harry rolled his eyes. "C'mon Hermione. Will you please help me? Do you know how to dance?"

"Of course I know!" she said sharply. "I learned a few good steps from my father. It depends what type of dances you're into. The only two I know are the box step or the foxtrot."

"I don't even know what those are," Harry murmured.

Hermione sighed. "I guess I have no choice then." She pushed the coffee table farther from the fireplace and slipped off her footwear. "Take off your shoes – I don't want you to crush my feet."

Harry nodded and complied. Hermione saw that his trousers were actually longer with his shoes off as the hem needed to be scrunched up or they would pool over his calves. Once he placed his shoes next to the couch, she timidly held out her hand, inviting, and he accepted.

"Okay, we're going to learn how to do the foxtrot first…slow, slow, quick, quick…"

The lesson was all about the basics – learning where to hold the girl, remembering which leg starts first, counting out the steps, and going along with the rhythm. Harry would miss a step which would cause them to tumble over or he would accidentally step on Hermione's toes. Hermione had to take the role of the male to show Harry how he should lead the female, how his hands should properly hold his partner, and it was a little hard for Hermione that she managed to ruin it sometime. She would probably not have made the mistake of having him step on her toes again if she did not smell the sweet-scented and his face was not directly in front of her.

Harry finally got the foxtrot on the twentieth time and he was able to look at Hermione instead of his feet, a vibe of confidence surrounding him as he led her through the dance.

"I think I've gotten quite good," Harry smiled once he and Hermione finished their lesson. He was sitting on the couch while Hermione was pulled the coffee back in place and took her textbook before she went to sit next to him. Not too close but enough for her to feel his body heat.

"Don't get cocky. It's only your first lesson," said Hermione as she flipped her book open on the page she was previously on. "You're still shaky on the turns and your timing is too quick too. You need to work on that."

"Maybe I will," Harry said softly, his voice delicate and distracted, and Hermione doubted him. She knew he had other things much more important than to practice a simple dance.

"So you have anyone in mind? A date, I mean," Hermione inquired.

"No, no one yet," Harry shook his head.

"I'm sure you'll find someone," Hermione reassured.

"I guess," sighed Harry. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Are you ever going to tell me who is your date? You've been so secretive about him. It is a guy, right? Not that I mind if they're a girl, I just want to know who it is."

Hermione snapped her book with a huff and used it to smack him in the arm repeatedly, each hit making Harry to laugh harder as he tried to inch away from her but she would move closer to him to continue.

"Of – course – it's – a – guy – Harry – Potter!" she said with every hit. Harry covered his head with his hands to shield himself from her abusing hard cover book.

"Then who is it?" Harry asked through his laughs.

Hermione stopped hitting him on the head and arms to lean back into the couch, the scowl on her face slowly morphing into a teasing smirk and a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"And why are you suddenly so interested in my dating life, Mr. Potter?" Hermione tilted her head to the side. "Are you jealous? Oh Harry, don't worry. You'll always be my number one wizard."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, 'Mione. I'm just curious."

"Well, you'll stay that way," Hermione grinned. "It's a secret."

Harry laughed. "Alright." He then rose from the couch and playfully ruffled Hermione's hair, resulting her to slapping it away with her book. "I'm going up to bed now. Don't stay up too late now. I better not come down here and find you knocked out."

"Hush you," Hermione retorted then she smiled at him tenderly as she later told him, "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Hermione."

As she watched him climbed up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, Hermione suddenly felt cold sitting there on the couch alone, despite being close to the fireplace. She tried using the quilt that was always slung over the back of the couch but it did no good even when she tucked in her toes and held the quilt tightly to her body. Yet nothing worked. And Hermione understood why; nothing could possibly succeed in protecting her from the cold except the warmth of Harry's body pressed to hers or standing near her.

Unfortunately, he will be sharing that heat with another girl during the Yule Ball and possibly later in his life to the woman who is his better half, the girl of his dream, the love of his life, his soul mate. And she knew that person was not her – she was just a friend to him. She always has been.

Hermione never knew she could cry as much as she did that night. Not even Ron could hurt her enough with intentions to make her feel dehydrated and broken like Harry did without any.

* * *

Hermione's eyes opened wide as she gasped in a breath and she shot upward rigidly. She glanced around her for a moment before she realized that she was still in her old bedroom on her old bed in her old house and she let out a heavy sigh. She ran her hand through her hair and swung her legs over the edge then buried her face in her hands while she counted out her breaths to keep them regular.

She can feel the back of her eyes sting and she knew it was not because of tear but because of the headache that was throbbing painfully at each inch of her head. She always gets one whenever she has a terrible nap or did not get a night's sleep at all. She rubbed the heel of her palms on her eyes then over her face to wipe away the grogginess from the sleep she took undesirably and she tried to stand but her legs felt shaky so she stayed on the bed until she got the feeling back.

A knock came from the door Hermione noticed was left open and Carol was seen entering cautiously, a vigilant look glazing over her eyes as she walked to her daughter.

"About time you woke up," she said commonly.

"How long was I asleep?" Hermione pressed on. "What time is it?"

"It's nine 'o clock," Carol answered.

Hermione gasped. "Oh God! Hugo!"

Carol held up a hand. "Ron picked him up. I rang him up and told him you're here. He came by earlier with Hugo and we tried to wake you up but you wouldn't budge. He told me to tell you that he'll have supper in the microwave when you get home and that he might be at St. Mungo's – I think it's called – if you don't find him there."

Hermione sighed in relief and fell back to the bed with a grunt. Carol came to sit on the edge of the bed, her eyes observing her daughter. Hermione noticed.

"What?" she asked.

"Is everything okay, sweetheart?" Carol shot back with a question.

A line formed between Hermione's eyebrows but she didn't respond. Was everything okay? She didn't feel like it was so she can assume it wasn't. Everything was alright until a few days ago. Her close friend was dodge her whenever she has a chance to talk to Ginny like she was a contagious infection – her feelings for her husband and the father of her children were surely gone – she was still not involved in her daughter's life yet – her son was being bullied at his school because of his disorder – and she was feeling a spasm of anxiety at the discovery she learned from her sleep.

"Mum," Hermione inhaled deeply through her nose as she sat up again and turned to her mother to look at her straight in her eyes with a resolute expression. "I'm still in love with Harry."

* * *

 **A:N:** Teddy is back! I've been waiting forever to write this chapter because of him. I can't wait to show you all more about his bond with the Potter/Weasley family.

I know most of you are going to wonder why I didn't continue up to fifth - sixth - the Horcrux hunt - and Hermione's seventh but believe me when I say I've got a good reason to. Just need to keep reading.

My best friend recommended that quote from the beginning and I fell in love with it. It was perfect for Hermione in this chapter.

Anyway until next time!

 **Please Review!**


	19. War At Home

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations and characters in it, and the songs mentioned.

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVE! Your thoughts are truly great to me. Ooh, Valentine's Day is this Sunday! Hope you all have fun, all the singles and all the couples and all the friends! Kisses to you all!

Enjoy!

* * *

 _Happy to lay here_

 _Just happy to be here_

 _I'm happy to know you_

 _Play me a song_

 _Your newest one_

 _Please leave your taste on my tongue_

 _Paperweight on my back_

 _Cover me like a blanket_

\- Paperweight; Joshua Radin ft. Schuyler Fisk

* * *

 _"You're in love with him, and he's in love with you. And it's like a goddamn tragedy, because you look at him and see the stars, and he looks at you and sees the sun. But you both think the other is just staring at the ground, when you're really both staring at the sky."_

\- Anonymous

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: War at Home**

" _I'm still in love with Harry."_

Hermione sighed as the words she told her mother rang in her head. It had been a week since her confession and she still cannot believe how true it was until she heard herself speak it out loud. She let herself fall back into the hole she had tried to climb out of many years ago. She was not sure if she should be disappointed in herself for letting her fall back or if she should be relieved of finally letting go of the burden she had been keeping buried for years. She had kept it hidden to the back of her head and heart in hope that nothing in her life would be ruined from the moment she realized that her feelings were being divided for her two best friends. She was able to keep treat Harry as a friend instinctively and fall deeper into the chains of her feelings for Ron.

There were times when she would slip out of character by accident like the end of her fourth year when she gave Harry a kiss on the cheek before their departure from King's Cross. She had lost control of herself; he had been through too much pain that year with the shunning of the student's population, his life at risk with the dangers of the tournament, and then suffering from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. She had to kiss him for two reasons - she needed to let him know how relieved she is to know he is alive, that he is being strong with the death of Cedric Diggory fresh in his mind, and handling himself well after experiencing the internal life-wrenching twisting and ripping sensations of torture. But she also kissed him as her way of officially letting go of him – she came to terms that he would not really see her any more than a best friend and he will most likely go for the more attractive witches.

Fifth year was a big change for her. She and Ron were made as Prefects which meant they had to spend a lot more time together. She had learned a lot more about Ron that year – why he acts the way he does, his pressure of his family, his dreams, his love for Quidditch, his admiration in Harry, and his interests. She had learned a whole new side of Ron that is rarely seen by friends or family and she felt grateful that he had trusted her enough to tell her and not judge him. She didn't judge him – she was impressed by him. She felt her heart melt when he told her that although he had gotten the Prefect badge out of sympathy for Harry, he enjoyed the power of holding something worth a lot. He didn't take it seriously, to her irritation, but the thought he held for it made her swoon. Her feelings for Ron grew intense like violet sparks she couldn't control.

Harry made it easy and hard for her to shove out her feelings for him on that same year. She was slowly moving away from him emotionally due to his infatuation on Cho Chang and hers for Ron, and she felt she would slowly be able to see him as just the boy she cared for, believed in, and trusted instead of the boy she also fell for. But when Umbridge Dolores came to take over Hogwarts and she came up with the idea of Harry leading the defense group, she was easily reminded with how intimidating and truly mesmerizing Harry's leadership was. The way how he instructed and demonstrated in each lesson made her never want to tear her eyes away from him, and then her being able to do the many defensive and offensive spells quicker with him teaching her was splendid. He had taken charge of something for once in his life at his own will, something that Hermione always wants him to do, and still does. Him doing things his own way showed her the domestic and domineering side of him that was too appealing.

Hermione came with the decision that it was okay for her to feel some little attraction still to Harry as he was the first boy she ever fancied and let her experienced what a first love felt like. Getting over a first was not easy and she learned that. She was glad she was able to move on completely to be able to pursue a solid relationship with Ron and still keep a close friendship with Harry. Her life was complete with the most important men in her life still with her. Or she thought it was.

Hermione sighed softly and glanced down at her lap, a tiny small cracking through her mask of trouble, as she stared at the messy mop head of her son's hair, watching him whilst he breathed evenly. He had fallen asleep many hours ago while they were watching his favorite film, _Jurassic World_ , and she had set him on her lap when she noticed his head was lolling around his shoulders. Crookshanks was sleeping on Hugo's stomach in a curled ball. She peered over down the hall to the door that remained closed and went back to watching the last scenes of the film as she stroked Hugo's hair.

It was a quarter past Hugo's curfew and he had class in the morning but he insisted to stay up late with Hermione while she wait for Ron to come home. A few days ago, Harry had made an excellent recovery and had been discharged from the hospital as soon as possible, however, he had grown into depression when he was told that Arnold Grumps had not made it from the explosion and would not leave his bedroom to stop sleeping away in guilt. Ron, Mr. Weasley, Teddy, and George managed to pull him out and take him out for the night to let him breathe fresh air. She had not heard from them since noon and she wondered how Harry was doing.

" _I'm shocked to hear this, Hermione. Are you sure? I mean, this is unexpected. You can't still be in love with Harry – I didn't even know you fancied him in the first place! Either way, you can't possibly. He's married! So are you! Is this why you feel like your marriage with Ron is failing? You could be confused – you have to be. Oh, Hermione, why do you get yourself in these sorts of situations? This is bad – very bad! Don't you give me that look. I'm not the one who sounds mental here. Oh, you're not confused are you? You would never look at me that way if you weren't sure. Oh dear, you really are in love with Harry!"_

Carol's words echoed in her head. Hermione had laughed at her mother's frenzy reaction to her confession. It was hysterically amusing. She can clearly see where she got that side from.

But after a while she had thought about what her mother told her. Was she confused? She did not feel any doubt that she wasn't. Are her feelings for Harry the reason why her marriage with Ron wasn't functioning? No, she does not believe that. She and Ron have been having problems for a long time before all the complications with Harry started and she did not feel her buried affections for Harry infect her decisions at all. She does agree that this situation of her being in love with Harry was very bad. She was still married to Ron and she does not plan to divorce for the sake of her relationship with her children. Then she thought how wrong that is also – a loveless marriage is much more hurtful to all of them. But it wasn't entirely loveless – it was mostly one-sided now.

Hermione groaned inwardly as she tilts her head back. She did not know what to do. She was stuck in a rut. She cannot stay with Ron and lead him on or it will end up with her hurting him and putting a strain to their friendship. But she cannot leave him or she will lose everything she held dear – her children. She nearly lost Hugo last month and she was still in the middle of mending her relationship with Rose. If she filed a divorce now then Rose will never even consider to look at her the same anymore because she will think her mother gave up on her all too soon and Hugo is such a sensitive boy; he would let his emotions of betrayal infect his choice and he'd go along with his older sister. She would be left with nothing in the end and she cannot live with that.

Surprisingly, a pop was heard coming from the foyer and a second later, a bleach blonde witch came into the living room.

"Luna? What are you doing here? It's -" Hermione glanced over at the clock on top of the fireplace mantle. "- nearly midnight. Is something wrong?"

"Sorry for the inconvenience but I was wondering if you have any Remotionem Morbo. I ran out of my supply," Luna said softly, noticing the peaceful form of Hugo on Hermione's lap. "One of the twins caught the Mumblemumps and it's a rather contagious disease if not treated right away."

Hermione grimaced. "Of course. I have a spare in the guest bathroom. Should be on the top shelf."

"Cheers," said Luna before she skipped down the hallway pointed at.

"Hmm, mum?" Hugo stirred and lifted his head, his eyes unfocused while opened. Crookshanks lets out a lazy meow but he did not move.

"Shh," Hermione hushed him as she gently pushed him back down on her lap and then ran her fingers through his hair, knowing the feel of her nails scrapping across his scalp would lure him back to drowsiness. "Sleep, honey. Daddy isn't home yet."

Hugo nodded weakly then hummed as he fluttered his eyes closed. A breath later, he was out like a light. Luna came skipping back into the room in light steps with a green vial in hand and she smiled dreamily when she saw Hugo sleeping like an angel on heaven's cloud.

"Heavy sleeper, that one," she commented.

Hermione smiled. "He insisted to wait for Ron with me. He should be in his bed right now but I don't have the heart to move him – he looks too comfortable."

"Where is Ronald? How is he?" Luna asked politely.

"Um, he's alright. He took Harry out for a boy's day with George, Teddy, and Arthur," Hermione replied. "Ever since Harry got out of the hospital, he hasn't been well. With the pressure of the public and Auror Grump's death – it's taken a real toll on him. He needs it. He can't spend all his time in his house."

"Has Harry gone bad again?" Luna questioned, her voice the same dreamlike sound but laced with worrisome.

"So far, he hasn't shown any of the worst symptoms – thank Merlin for that – but he's in depression," said Hermione frowning. "I haven't been able to see him this week with work and Hugo. I heard around the Ministry that he's been told to leave work early until he is mentally stable and can't come back until it's certain so I didn't get to see him in office hours either. Ginny won't talk to me-"

"Because of the time Harry said your name?"

Hermione blinked. "Has she been throwing that around?"

"She talked to me about it a few days ago. Caught her during break. She looked really sad. It could be that something happened to Harry at her home or with what's going on at work," Luna answered. She then added as an afterthought, "Or she misses you."

"What's going on at her work?" Hermione inquired frantically. A thought of Ginny being caught slipping in the boggling berries flashed through her mind and a surge of panic ran over her.

"She's been getting shunned by her co-workers because of the articles and some would only talk to her if they want to know about Harry's mission or what Harry said about Auror Grump's death. But she told me that Harry has been really distant at home since he's been discharged and he spends most of his time with Lily. He never talks as much as he usually does and sleeps most of the day," Luna explained.

"Oh God," sighed Hermione. She and Ginny have not spoken since their discussion. "Maybe I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"She won't be working tomorrow," Luna said. "She's going to take care of Harry. I think she feels like he will be utterly bladdered."

"Then I'll see her during lunch," Hermione persisted. She fingered a strand of Hugo's hair as she bit her lip. "Did she say anything else, by any chance? About that time at St. Mungo's?"

"About Harry saying your name or the talk you two had?"

"Both," Hermione muttered.

"She does speculate that an affair might be taking place between you two but she took your words under consideration. She does admit that she might have thrown everything out of proportion and that perhaps she was just under too much stress with the articles about Harry and him at the same time," Luna said.

Hermione frowned and looked away, keeping her eyes planted on the end credits rolling on the television as she processed Luna's words, feeling guilt wrenching in the pit of her stomach. A few days ago she had convinced Ginny that everything between her and Harry was purely platonic, verified that any romantic feelings were nonexistent among them, to let Ginny see that Harry saying her name in his semi-conscious state held no double meaning, but then later on that same day, Hermione became aware that she was still falling for Harry after all these years. She could feel a migraine getting to her now with the many secrets she has – her drunken kiss with Harry – her no longer in love with Ron – her still in love with Harry.

Her head might actually explode.

"You seem strange and not in a good way," Luna suddenly pointed out, making Hermione snap her gaze back at her. "You haven't by any chance been in the presence of a Crubbettes, have you? They send out a scent to their prey to make them go delirious and attack them. You plant orchids around your house to lure them away. The most they feed off is a witch's blood because we have a sweet copper kind of taste."

 _What the bleeding hell is she going on about?_ Hermione blinked. "I don't even know what a Crubbette is, Luna. I never heard of such a thing."

"We discovered them during summer when we went to Newton's at Dorset. They're really fascinating creatures. They look like tiny chunks of leaves. They're like nature's 'cleansers' by sucking out the fluid of the living – tree saps, fly's blood, spider blood. Anything. They come out during winter and spring in packs so they could feed of witches and wizards. Although some still roam around in any other season. They don't usually show up around that area because of the Porlocks there – they fear them. But it seems the smell of my blood enticed them to come out. They're a lot smaller than they sound – only two sizes bigger than a Wrackspurt," Luna said, her voice still surreal.

"It seems like the smallest creatures do the most damage these days," Hermione mumbled.

"Never underestimate someone's because they have bigger possibilities," said Luna.

Hermione chuckled and glanced down at her son. "I've learned. By the way, how is Rolf?"

"He's well. He left to visit his mother in Dorset yesterday. He should be back sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"You want to make some sort of playdate tomorrow for the kids? If the twins don't still have the Mumblemumps. I'm sure Hugo and Lily would appreciate it to see them again. They could use the distraction right now with what's going on."

"Lily might be hard to convince," Luna retorted. "From what Ginny told me, she doesn't leave her father's side before and after school. The weekends are more challenging."

"She doesn't have to be separated from Harry," Hermione spoke. "We could all go to a park together or maybe do it at their house. I understand why she wouldn't want to be away from Harry now. I'd be the same way when my father gets out of the hospital as well."

"Oh, how is Aegeus? Ron told me he's been getting better."

Her shoulders slumping, Hermione sighed. "He is. I visited him today. He recovered from his stroke and his temperature dropped back to normal but he's still stuck in a coma. Aside from that, he's doing fine for now. I just wish he wakes up soon." Then she blinked when she caught on to something. "Wait, Ron told you?"

"Yes," Luna said. "He told me sometime last month before I left to look for Snout Pixies."

"Why would Ron tell you that? That's personal," Hermione replied, incensed. She cannot believe she was hearing about this from Luna instead of her husband. She cannot believe that she was hearing this either way. Why would Ron speak about her family problems to Luna?

"He was in distress and I happen to be there," Luna explained trimly, unfazed by Hermione's choppy tone. "You two had quite a month – not good at all."

"He told you everything?"

"Everything. He would invite me for tea or come to my house so Hugo and the kids could play together. I saw him again a few days ago at the bakery and he seems much more lively now. I can assume everything is straight with you two again?"

"Y-yeah."

"I'm glad. I'm sure Ron won't mind about that playdate for the kids. Lorcan and Lysander miss Hugo."

Hermione looked away from Luna with a frown, disbelief coursing through her. She did not know how she should feel about this new piece of information; was she supposed to be angry that her personal life was being shared or was she supposed to feel sad because Ron was going through a hard time? She could not choose a side as they were equally balanced. Ron had no right to speak about her family to anyone, no matter how close of a friend they are, but at the same time he did have a right to rant out his stress. She is stuck yet again.

Her train of thought was broken at the sound of the front door knob jiggling and then the door creaking open and slamming shut. Footsteps moved to the doorway of the living room and then a wobbly Ron Weasley was seen rubbing his eyes, his shirt untucked, and his hair somewhat deranged.

"Honey, I'm home," he announced whimsically while he kept rubbing his eyes.

"Rough night?" Hermione asked, raising a brow.

"You could say that," Ron grunted. "Some barmy arsehole had too many rounds and started a row with some poor defenseless blighter for no reason. The guys and I ended up breaking up the whole thing but the barman called the coppers. We had to disapparate on the spot."

"Are you mental?" Hermione gasped. "You can't just-"

"Calm down. Dad stayed behind to Obliviate those who saw us," Ron quickly said before he groaned in agony. "And don't yell – I got a headache."

"I wasn't yelling," Hermione mumbled.

"Hello Ronald."

Ron pulled his hands away from his eyes and they widen in shock at the sight of Luna standing a few feet away from him, smiling dreamily like she always does and her silver gray eyes made her seem like she was lost in her thoughts when she was only staring at him tenderly.

"Luna!"

"Shh!" Hermione hushed him, glancing down at Hugo. Ron chuckled sheepishly while he scratched his head and gave her an apologetic grin as he blushed out of embarrassment.

"So Luna, what are you doing here?" he asked the blonde.

Luna held up the green vial. "One of the twins got the Mumblemumps."

"Lorcan or Lystander?"

"Lystander."

"Again? He's been getting peaky lately. Didn't he get over the sniffles last time?"

"Yes he has," Luna said. "I'm planning to take him to St. Mungo's. I got a feeling there's something in his immune system. Hopefully nothing fatal."

"It seems like everyone is going to that blasted place nowadays," Ron muttered sulkily; Hermione frowned and reached over to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Ron smiled at her gratefully and returned the gesture.

"I best be going," Luna insisted hurriedly. "Mumblemumps are contagious and I don't want both of them to have it."

"Oh okay," Ron said with a slight pout, his voice deflated. He seemed upset by her announced departure. "I'll walk you out then."

"Oh thank you." Luna turned to the brunette with a kind, dreamlike smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione, for the playdate. I'm sure Lystander will be back to normal by then. What time is it?"

"Around noon," Hermione said. "Have a good night, Luna."

"Good night."

Luna and Ron turned to walk; Hermione noticed from a quick glance that Ron had put one arm behind Luna's back, not quite touching her, as he led her to the door. It did not bother her but it seems odd to her how Ron would be close to Luna like that because he is not cruel to her but he is not friendly enough with her to be in contact. She figured the month while he was confiding in her that she grew on him and a new bond of trust was formed between them.

"Alright little tyke. Daddy is home so you need to go to bed," Hermione whispered as she carefully lifted her son in her arms, causing Crookshanks to growl as her while leaping onto the couch, and then she slowly stood.

Hugo mumbled in his sleep but he never woke up as he snuggled deeper into his mother's cradling arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck and clutching onto the collar of her shirt. For a nostalgic second, Hermione saw a glimpse of her son as a baby and smiled as she started to carry him out and up to his room. Crookshanks followed them soundlessly behind, probably thinking that Hermione was also go to turn in for the night – he always sleeps with her even though he has his own proper bed in the same room and another in Rose and Hugo's room.

Hermione tucked in Hugo in silence and made sure that his model dragon has all the essentials he needed before she walked back downstairs. She was glad Crookshanks chose to sleep in one of his bed tonight so that means she can have a wonderful sleep. She could not take her mind off with what she spotted in the living room; she was positive that Ron's kind behavior towards Luna is a vast confirmation of the many bizarre things that have been occurring.

When she returned downstairs, she saw Ron walked inside with a mellow grin on his face and flushed cheeks.

"So a playdate?" he asked.

"Mostly for Lily," Hermione replied as she went down on the last step. "Figured she needs it more than ever. I'm planning to see Harry tomorrow as well."

"Yeah, Luna told me," Ron said.

"How was Harry tonight?" Hermione asked worriedly.

The grin fell from Ron's face. "We managed to crack a chuckle out of him," he responded. "He was getting a bit more loose with a couple of rounds and then that idiot started that shite –" Ron shook his head. "Harry sort of had an episode. When we were trying to break them up, he was – he was kinda – well he was gone from the mind. It ended up with me having to pull Harry off the poor bloke or he would have killed him."

Hermione gasped, her eyes wide. "Did you check to see if he's okay? He could be going on a rampage right now!"

"Don't worry, Teddy, George, and me took care of him," Ron said. "Ginny kept Lily in her room while we put him to sleep. A simple Body-Binding spell and a shot of Calming Draught and he was out."

"Oh God," Hermione sighed, running her hands through her hair. "Maybe we should head over – we should go see if he's alright – he might need something and –"

"Hermione, he's fine," Ron said firmly. "He's got Ginny with him. If anything happens and she can't handle it, I'm sure she'll give us a bell. You don't need to worry too much."

"Can you blame me?" Hermione's shoulders slumped. "You know how Harry gets when it comes to these things. He could-"

"He won't," Ron told her.

"How are you sure?"

"I just am."

Ron placed his hands on Hermione's shoulders and stared at her straight in the eyes with a stoned expression, his lips tightened into a thin line.

"He's going to be okay, Hermione," he said, his tone remarkably soft and genuinely comforting. His thumbs rubbed over her shoulders. "It's not the first time he went through this and it's not as worse as it was from the beginning. He only gets nightmares and flashbacks here and there but he doesn't act as mental as before."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm still going over tomorrow just to be sure."

Ron sighed, "Go ahead. I'm going to bed – I'm exhausted. Breaking up a row does that to you." He let go of her and started to sluggishly climb up stairs.

Hermione whirled around. "Hey Ron!"

"What?"

"Is everything okay?" she asked. "Are _you_ okay?"

Ron blinked. "Yeah. Why ask?"

"You just seem so different. Not yourself, I mean. And," Hermione sighed. "And Luna told me what's been going on last month. I didn't know. I just wanted to know if you're alright now."

Ron's eyes went wide. "What did she tell you?"

"She told me about the times you two had tea together and the playdates for the kids. She even told me you told her about my father," said Hermione with a sigh.

Ron moaned. "Hermione, I don't want to have a row with you right now. I'm tired and a little bruised here. Can't this wait till the morning?"

Hermione opened her mouth and then hesitated to answer as she thought about Luna's words. _He was in distress_. Their problems have caused Ron to go through a difficult time that he had turned to the first person he came across with and that happened to be Luna who gave him the shoulder and promising words to help him get through the fire. Just like Harry did for her. And now, as she looked at him, she cannot stop imagining the hopeless eyes and pale face he must have worn whenever he talked to Luna – she could not get mad at him for speaking about her father in the mist of it all.

"I just want to say I'm sorry," she finally said and his eyes widen at a comical length that nearly made her laugh but she held it in – she did not want him to think she was making fun of him. It is likely he thought she was going to saw a usual comment of hers.

"Oh…well…um," Ron stuttered, completely taken by surprise. "That's alright, I s'pose. The worst is over with, right?"

 _Not likely_ , Hermione thought sadly but she answered with a, "Yes."

"Well, I'm going to bed," yawned Ron. "You coming?"

"In a bit," Hermione said, looking down. "I need to tidy up the mess Hugo and I made today."

Ron nodded before he lazily walked up the stairs without another word. Hermione strides forward into the living room; she looked around the room and snickered to herself once she saw the disastrous state it was in. She and Hugo might have gotten carried away. The room was a complete mess. Crumpled pieces of paper from the homework she helped him with, cassette cases scattered over the coffee table and the couch cushions resting on the floor. There were even his novels, both for teens and children.

If a visitor saw the place, they would instantly confirm that no grownup lived with Hugo. Hermione felt the vibe of a childish nature. She can imagine that is how Hugo feels whenever he comes back from school and turns the house upside down; what looks to be his room he will turn the living room into that and create it as his sanctuary, far away from the cold and harsh world of bullies he faces every day at school. She had spoken to the headmaster about the situation with Jamie and so far Hugo hasn't complained about anything but Hermione was more observant on him whenever he spoke about his school life to be sure. She did not want him slipping lies through the cracks again.

Hermione smiled a little as she picked up Hugo's schoolbooks and organized them into his backpack. While she puts everything back to their original place, she started to remember the time before when the kids were babies, thinking about the playdates. It only reminded her how grown they all have gotten; Rose no longer gnawed on her LEGO blocks, James doesn't need his diaper changed every five minutes, Albus doesn't wail for his binky, Hugo doesn't play with toy cars anymore, and Lily has no desire to pull anyone's hair. Time snuck up on her all too quick and now she could only do is watch them from afar until they call her for her need.

"Geez, I feel old," murmured Hermione as she dusted her hands once she finished putting away the cassettes and cushions. She glanced at the coffee table to see some notebooks and went to them, however, she paused when she saw the front cover, written in bold letters, read ROSE W. She curiously took them and flipped them open only to gasp in astonishment.

She was welcomed to a world of beauty. She can tell it was Rose's old primary schoolbooks by the level of subjects and notes taken, but in the margins were beautifully creative floral designs and doodles of her old favorite cartoon, American Dragon Jake Long. As she flipped through the pages, she can see that her drawings have slowly evolved from landscapes to self-portraits until it reached to the more detailed work. It was there that Rose had stopped taking notes and turned it into a sketchbook. She had begun to do sketches of animals she probably saw, down to the very last shadow. She had a small laugh at the picture of Crookshanks' usual scowl – he must have caught her staring at him.

"She's really good," Hermione whispered to no one.

She then closed the notebook and moved to the next one. However, it turned out to be an actual sketchbook and instead of the rough black and white sketches, this one was full of wonderfully blended colors. The book was about people. She could clearly see the improvement of her artistic technique drastically. She drew her friends smiling, Hugo pouting cutely while holding an ice cream, Lily grinning hilariously, George leaning over a cauldron, Angelina putting away Quidditch equipment, Molly reading _Witch Weekly_ while stirring, Arthur sleeping on a chair with his glasses askew, Ron holding a broomstick proudly, and lastly Harry casting a spell, the colors perfectly molded.

The last sketchbook she looked at left her without air. It was full of portraits of her in all kinds of styles – abstract, realism, fauvism, and sketches. All of them were moments of Hermione's brilliant smile brightened by a gorgeous background, whether it is a purely blue sky, a field covered in fluttering cherry blossom petals, her working behind the desk of her study, or her simply reading a book in peace. It was then Hermione realized, this book was a dedication to her. These were Rose's stolen moments of her being happy and enjoying her life instead of being buried in ink and parchment.

"Rose…" Hermione whispered, her voice breaking by a croak, as she lightly traced the lines with her finger, afraid that too much pressure would ruin artistry of her daughter's magnificent talent. She can feel tears prickling in her eyes and she quickly blinked them back. She needed to remind herself that only two more months she will see Rose again and take the chance to be her mother again – she will wait for her.

She held the books close to her heart, took out her wand to extinguish the lights, and then started to walk her way back to her bedroom, her temporary stress gone by the thought of Rose drawing her love.

* * *

The following day, Hermione was able to go to work with ease as Ron had decided to drive Hugo to school, stating that he was going to keep an eye on Jamie when he drops off their son, and she hoped that he meant by staying in the car instead of going directly to the child and send him off running in tears. That would cause a rivalry between them at the family of the child and an embarrassment to Hugo once the news of the commotion runs amuck in the school.

Hermione instantly regretted not being the one to take Hugo to school when she entered the Ministry and made her way to the break room to clock in. The atrium was in a frenzy of loud chatters and shouts. She did not pay attention to them while she poured yourself a cup of coffee and opening the morning edition of the newspaper to see if there was anything interesting. She skipped the article about Harry being released from the hospital – she already saw it at home. She actually went to the sports section to read Ginny's article about the latest Quidditch match and she found that the ginger has quite a talent in journalism. She was engrossed in the event for the first time since the season started, mostly impressed by Ginny's skills.

Her peaceful time was interrupted rudely by loud stomping coming her way and a set of hands slamming on the table in front of her, causing her to drop her hot mug on the table, the substance dripping over her lap, and she shrieked as she hopped onto her feet, mortified. She did not have to look up to know who it was.

"GERALD!" she shouted, her voice heightened into a shrill.

The dark haired wizard cackled, using the same table as support for his weight, as he watched her transfigure the newspaper into a napkin and used it to wipe the table.

"I couldn't help it – your face- priceless!" he managed to say through his laughter.

"Hilarious," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She took out her wand and pointed it at her stained robes, saying " _Scourgify_ , and the coffee colored mark disappeared.

"It helped you wake up better than that coffee," Gerald commented with a sly grin.

"That's because you spilled it all over me!" snarled Hermione. "Honestly, Gerald! Isn't it a little too early for you to start patronizing me?"

"It never isn't," he answered, unaffected by Hermione's murderous tone, whilst he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Besides, I've been looking all over for you. With good reason too."

"And it couldn't have waited until I got to the office?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

"Sure," Gerald shrugged. He turned to walk out of the break room, leaving Hermione to clean the remains of the spilled coffee, but before he stepped through the doorway, he called over his shoulder, "It's not like it has anything to do with _Harry_. Or the fact that he's at the atrium talking to the media right now."

Nearly dropping her wand, Hermione gasped. "What? Harry is – he isn't even supposed to – why is he – he should be at home resting!"

Gerald faced her and did a quick shrug of his shoulders. "Hell if I know. All I do know is that he's been pounced on by a couple of reporters like rapid wolves. Minister Shacklebolt is with him, too."

Hermione growled. "That bas – ugh, let's go!"

She dropped the napkin and quickly marched out of the room with Gerald following her trail, leaving the tiny coffee spots and used napkin on the table. She did not care if other would be mad at her for the mess, she was fuming hotly that she could have sworn she felt steam coming out of her ears. She could see people cowering out of her path and she knew her face was red. She was above boiling point. She was angry at Harry for not listening to doctor's orders – she was angry at Kingsley for allowing him to step into the Ministry – she was mad in general.

Hermione did not want to anyone to try to tell her to simmer down – she dared Percy to even think about coming in her way. She kept running. She ran – ran – ran through the flowing crowd that was heading down the same direction as her, pushing them out of her sight, thankful for her usual morning runs that her legs did not even burn from the long way to the center of the atrium. She can feel her heart burning through the pumps of her blood, the heat of her body shown by the red shade colored over her face.

She eventually found herself among the crowd of Ministry and media employers, surrounded by flashes of photographers and shouted questions. She went on her toes to glance over the heads, waving hands, and swinging notepads, and she quickly caught sight of the messy hair of Harry Potter. Her anger instantly dissipated into concern when she saw how his appearance is; he was still well-kept but the bags under his eyes, the hollow of his cheeks, the vacancy in his eyes, and the fresh scar on his cheek made him seem like he was a living dead. He was there but he looked to be soulless. Why was he even here in the first place?

"You're so short, Hermy," Gerald said loud enough to be heard through the yelling.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know. I came after you as soon as I saw Harry. I thought you would know."

"He's supposed to be in bed!"

Another round of howling and screeches reached Hermione's ears, giving her an unbearable ring that she needed to clamped her hands over to lessen the sound. She glanced up again to see Harry walked up to the podium with a slight grimace and tried to push her way through the wall of clamor but she ended up being shoved back into a spooked Gerald's arms. He snickered under his breath as she straightened herself and ran a hand through her hair.

"Blasted reporters," she muttered. She can hear them toss out question after question, each of them making her wonder how high the rate of stupidity of this generation is.

"Mister Potter, is it true you did not die because you're immortal?"

"Auror Potter, were you the one who started the explostion?"

"I heard that you have given up on the search of Death Eater and tried to do suicide on your mission! Is this rumor true?"

 _Idiotic little buggers_ , thought Hermione with a roll of her eye. Beside her, Gerald saw her and let out a laugh.

From the podium, Harry held up his hands, indicating for their buzzing to be kept at a dull roar, and the reporters instantly followed his request as they watched him with anticipation, quills on the ready. Hermione stared at him with curious eyes, a heavy lump formed in her throat, one she did not know if it was out of expectation or apprehension, as Harry lowered his hands and looked around the area. She wondered if he could spot her.

"As you all know, for the past few weeks, a team of Aurors and I were on a mission for the custody of Death Eaters, Yaxley and Jugson. I know you learned from the papers that during the mission one of our very own lost his life, and I am here to say I hold full responsibility over the death of Arnold Kay Grumps," he said. "I was the one leading them all through this mission and due to my haste in capturing the criminals, I've fallen into a trap set by them. Auror Grumps was caught by fallen debris that was meant for me but he, being the devoted officer and dedicated comrade, risked his life for the sake of my own. I am forever in his debt that I'll know I will never be able to pay. Some of you know him as just another employer you greet every morning, others he was a close mate to, but he was much more than a person who came to work – he was my friend, my family's friend. He was a family man. I had taken him under my wing when I recruited him. He had potential of a protector. I watched him grow into the man he was and I couldn't have been more proud of him."

Hermione could feel her eyes sting as tears welled up. She can hear the remorse, the anguish, the misery, and the passion in Harry's words. She could feel them. Everything he said was true; he had trained Arnold personally and even invited him to some family dinners – that is how she and Ron met him as well. If Harry hadn't recruited Arnold, he wouldn't have met his wife Janice or gotten his adopted daughter Maddison. He had gotten a life through Harry and he was willing to give his away for Harry's life. The tears fell over and showered over her face.

"To have his name remembered and honor him for all of he has done for the protection of the wizarding world, a funeral will be held. Also, a memorial statue will be made," Harry continued. "He will forever be known as all he is, all he's done, and all he believed in. As for his family, they will be provided with donations of thirty-thousand galleons every month plus with household supplies they find essential. May my condolences reach them. Thank you for your time."

The uproar rose again as Harry left the podium and Kingsley came up as his replacement, taking away the attention from Harry by answering some of the questions being flung around. Hermione stepped through the bustling crowd, keeping her eyes on Harry's moving figure between the gaps, nearly tripping over feet, as she followed him. She can see him heading to one of the grates, brushing off some of the reporters who approached him eagerly, as soon as she managed to get out of the tangling mess, and the reporter left dissatisfied while she trailed after her best friend.

"Harry!" she called after him but he didn't seem to hear her. " _Harry!_ "

The raven-haired wizard halted, his shoulders stiffen for a moment, and then he turned to her. Hermione slowed her steps the closer she got to him, the sight of his pale face too dreadful for her to handle seeing. He looked lost and hopeless. His face held no emotion. His hair was badly combed, like he had just ran his hands through it.

"Harry, wh-"

"I can't talk right now, Hermione," Harry said quickly. "I need to get going."

Hermione was rather taken back by the husky sound in his voice, not liking how rough it came out of from his throat. She walked closer to him and slowly reached for his hands, only to pull them away when she felt him flinch. She stared at him carefully while he looked down at his feet, breathing deeply.

"Harry, have you been sleeping?" Hermione asked. "Are you getting nightmares? Flashbacks?"

Harry looked up at her and Hermione was once again startled at the sight of emptiness in his eyes. The color seems to have gotten darker in grief and regret. He looked like the way he used to during the Horcrux hunt, only much worse.

"I need to go," he answered hurriedly before he turned and stride towards one of the grates.

"Harry!" she called after him but he had ignored her; he took the powder, called out his direction, and tossed it at his feet, engulfing himself in blinding green flames, disappearing from her eyes.

Hermione felt a horrific pinch in her chest, a narrowing in her heart. She became numb by the emotions that swallowed her at the sight of him suddenly disappearing; the filling gap within her grew greater, like she had been shot by a thousand Killing Curses at once, bringing her a sense of panic at the heavy feeling of loss. A few seconds ago she was standing before the most precious person in her life, a whirlwind of glee of seeing him breaking through the concern and anger she held for him, only to have him rip away from her as soon as she held him. She never knew she could feel heartbreak much more severe than the one she has now.

A hand landed on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" Gerald's voice asked.

Her eyes never leaving the grate, Hermione swallowed. "I need to see him. He's not telling me something. I need to see if he's doing okay at home."

"Good luck getting past the Minister," Gerald snorted.

And just like that, all her hurt quickly flared up into a flame of fury at the mentioning of Kingsley. She sharply turned, noticing that Aurors were forcibly escorting the reporters and photographers to the grates and Apparation zones, and she looked by the fountain to see Kingsley trudging down to the lifts. She pushed past Gerald and advanced towards the pure-blood wizard in a very incensed eyes that seem ferocious enough to murder in sight. Once she was close to him, she grabbed him by the sleeve and roughly turned him to her.

"Why did you let Harry come in?" she demanded him before he could open his mouth. "You know what he's struggling with right now so why allow him to come? He looks like he hasn't seen his bed in a long time – that's telling you something."

Kingsley sighed. "Counselor Granger, it wasn't my idea alone to have him talk to the media – it was a mutual decision."

"Explain what you mean by mutual."

Kingsley readjusted the papers in his arms. "I've been thinking about what you told me and I saw that I may have overreacted childishly. I won't be having you under supervision anymore. He came to me to talk about the situation of his name in the papers and we both came to the conclusion that he talked to them directly like he did now. Everything he did right now was by his own – his words and actions. They were all his doing."

"You honestly think talking to the press directly will change anything? They already did enough damage to ruin his good name. People hate him now. And those reporters – one of them could be the mole. Whoever it is could take Harry's words and twist them around."

"We're still looking for whoever it may be," Kingsley said.

"It's not enough," Hermione added.

"It's the best bet we have right now," Kingsley shot back. "The mole knows we're looking for him or her so they will be extra careful. Sooner or later, they will slip up and we'll be there to catch them. As your assistant always says ' _There's always a flaw in the system_ '."

Hermione blinked. She could not believe that Kingsley actually requited Gerald – they don't even get along that well. Kingsley finds him obnoxious and an invasion to his personal space while Gerald thinks Kingsley is too uptight and dull. The world really is weird.

"So you don't have to worry about Auror Potter coming here anytime soon, Counselor Granger," said Kingsley. "Before the announcement, I told him to go home directly as soon as possible and that he is not allowed to come to work unless he is certain that he is stable. He will also need to bring me a note from his Healer as proof."

Hermione breathed out in relief. "That's all I wanted to know. Harry, he – I don't want him to go bad again. Especially not in front of these people. I was so worried that he might have gotten too overwhelmed about Arnold that he might have – thank Merlin, he was able to keep himself together."

"I can see this is very hard for you but I can assure you he will be fine," Kingsley told her. "Now, if you excuse me, I need to get to a meeting-"

"I need to take an early leave today," Hermione insisted quickly. "I need to see if Harry is okay at home. I can't stay here knowing he's going through a tough time."

Kingsley shook his head. "Grang-"

"Please," Hermione pleaded through her eyes. "Please, Kingsley. I'm asking you a favor as an old comrade – not just another employee of the Ministry. I need to know if Harry is okay. That's all I ask."

Kingsley observed her tentatively, searching. Hermione hoped her could see the anxiety somewhere on her, the desperation to be next to Harry at his most difficult time yet. She needed to see him for herself. She wanted her heart to be there for him, to let it beat for him into sanity, let him know that he was safe, that the worst of his past was over, and to hold him as he cried through the painful flashbacks.

"At lunch," Kingsley finally told her. "You can leave by then."

Hermione beamed; she wanted to fling her arms around him and give him a kiss on the cheek but she retrained herself from doing such a thing, remembering that he was still her boss and that she cannot make it seem like he was doing favoritism. He has to keep the image of an unbiased politician and she did not want it to be ruined by the mole roaming around the building.

"Cheers," she said calmly.

Kingsley gave her a nod and a small smile before he turned to leave for the meeting he tried to mention earlier without a sound. Hermione also went around to the direction of the lifts that takes her to her level, feeling glad to be able to live in the moment of breathing normally again as the clog in her throat gladly disappeared and she can feel her heart go back to normal once more. She will be seeing Harry sooner than he had anticipated and she will be able to help him whether he wants it or not. She was not going to let him send her away.

Hermione found herself walking up to Gerald waiting for the cart to arrive, whistling a catchy tone absently while patting his thighs. He stopped when he saw her standing by him and gave her a slight smile.

"So, how'd it go?" he asked.

"Rather well," she responded easily. "I'm taking an early leave. Going to see if Harry is okay. He looked like he was going to faint. I don't think he's been sleeping."

"Maybe he hasn't eaten breakfast," Gerald said.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"Just don't fidget so much," Gerald told her. "It makes me anxious."

"And Cole doesn't?"

"Ooh, snippy. That made me hard."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're such a masochist sometimes."

The lift arrived then; Gerald held the entrance open for Hermione to enter first before he followed and pressed the button to their level. Hermione held onto the hanging as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, breathing calmly. The cart shot out to its destination.

"How are things with Cole?" she asked. "Has he filed the divorce yet?"

Gerald frowned. "We're doing fine. We actually went to a Muggle theater last week and went around the shopping center for a while. And no he hasn't filed for a divorce yet. Apparently, his wife cornered him about wanting children."

Hermione grimaced. "Does he want them?"

"He's indecisive," Gerald said. "He told me at first that he didn't want any kids but after his wife talked to him about how much she wants kids, he's actually considering to have them. Yet he doesn't want to because of me."

Hermione stared at him uneasily. Ever since Gerald told her about his secret relationship with Cole, she had been supportive of them for the sake of her friend's happiness but a part of her actually hoped that he would have broken it off before everything came too deep and complicated. She felt hypocritical now for thinking that way now that she came to terms about her feelings with Harry and the secret she is keeping from everyone. He was at least being brave enough to face the consequences that may hit him while she was hiding away her thoughts like a feeble insect and he is fighting for who he wants while she is staying where she always has been.

Godric Gryffindor must be ashamed of her.

Then she needed to remember that although their situations were similar, their lives were still different. She has a family built on many things – the love she once shared with Ron, the trust she built with the Weasleys, the family bond she has with her nieces and nephews, her slowly mending relationship with Rose, and then her friendships. She would lose all she grew up with. Gerald never did get along with his family aside from his little brother so she knew he will be mostly devastated if his relationship with his youngest sibling would break him down. He would hardly care about his friends if they ever turned away from him because he knew he would not be entirely alone because of Hermione and he does not have any worries about finding a job – he had once told her that if he was not working in the Ministry, he would go to the United States and work as an ice cream man because the level of homosexuality hatred was not as much as it was in the wizarding world.

They would both be hurt by their secrets but their ways of handling it was entirely different. Gerald does not let anything hold him back from living his life – he thinks for himself first - but Hermione always lets her heart lead her more than her brain and right now her love for her family is what keeps her going. She always has a heart bigger than her brain as much as she tries to deny it.

"I'm starting to think that maybe he does love his wife – not as a woman, but as a sister, and he doesn't want to hurt her feelings," Gerald continued. "He's confused now with what he wants now. He wants me but he wants his wife happy. So I think I know where that leaves me."

"Oh Gerald," Hermione took his hand and gave it a tug to make him look down at her. She gave him a smile that she hoped did not seem uncertain or less assuring. She was worried that her fear of Gerald being played by Cole might be coming true.

"It's fine," said Gerald. "If it doesn't work out with Cole then it doesn't work out. That means I'm not meant to settle down yet."

"If he's playing you, Gerald, I swear-"

"Declaw yourself, Mama Bear," Gerald laughed. "If he is then I'll be the one to hex and jinx him at the same time to the next century."

"Good," Hermione smirked.

Gerald stared at her peculiarly for a moment. Hermione felt self-conscious under his gaze and settled glancing down at her feet.

"How are things with Harry?" he asked.

Hermione blinked. "He's alright. At least, I think he's trying to be. I thank Kings-"

"No – I mean how things are between you two? From what you told me about the hospital, things sound to have gotten intense," Gerald clarified.

Hermione pursed her lips. The days after Harry came home, Hermione has been feeling isolated by her family. They were not shunning her for what happened but she felt more out of place with them than she ever has – she can feel the awkwardness and the tension whenever they shared the same air with her. They all acted the same but Hermione did not like how they pretended that everything was okay. She felt like she had no one to talk to – not to Molly, to Angelina, and certainly not to Ginny. She did not dare to bring up the subject to Ron. In the end, she turned to Gerald, who patiently listened to her explain of the whole situation. He shared no advice and she was glad for that because she only needed to rant, not search for a word of help.

"It's – it's a bit complicated right now," Hermione murmured.

"You talked to Harry about him saying your name?"

"No, not yet. I haven't gotten a chance to speak to him about it. Hopefully today I might." Then Hermione lets out a deep sigh and looked up at Gerald with trusting eyes. "I need to confess something to you."

"Do I need to sit down for this?" Gerald chuckled with a smirk. It immediately dropped when he saw the serious look on her face.

"I'll just say it," Hermione took a deep breath and stared at him directly in his eyes. "I – I'm in love with Harry."

"WHAT?"

The lift stops unexpectedly but neither witch or wizard lets go of the hangings as they stared at one another – one looking completely aghast and the other too diffident to try to break their locked gazes. Hermione bit her lip, anxious to hear what it is Gerald has got to say, and wishing that he would snap his mouth shut as it was adding extra to her feeling sheepish. She knew they should climb out of the lift before it is summoned by another level but her feet were rooted on the spot the longer Gerald stayed silent and stared at her. Then, when he finally spoke, she was the one left stunned and her jaw dropped.

"That was unexpected," he said ordinarily before he opened the lift and stepped out.

 _Wait, what?_ Hermione followed him hastily, breaking out to a light jog to match his walking pace, and looked up at him startlingly. "That's it? No _'What are you thinking_ ' or _'You're married to your husband_ ' or something between those lines?" she questioned.

"Were you expecting something drastic?"

"Quite frankly, yes," she admitted.

"Sorry to disappoint," Gerald grinned. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close whilst he whispered in her ear, "Just because I'm a poof, doesn't mean I go full fairy. I'm not going to squeal and hop around like some sort of schoolgirl. I'm still a guy in the end."

Hermione scoffed. "You know I wasn't referring to that. I meant that you were too calm about it. I was actually expecting a lecture from you."

"I got no say in the matter either. I am stepping out with a married bloke," Gerald pointed out.

"True," Hermione murmured. "But some sort of reaction would still be nice. I just confessed I'm in love with my best friend who is also the husband of _my_ husband's sister and **his** best friend as well. Even you wouldn't miss an opportunity to comment on something as scandalous as that."

"Well, I'll admit it was surprising to hear you say that. Especially after hearing you say you want to make things right with Ron and your kids – I can safely assume that you're no longer in love with him, right?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied with a frown. It was a bittersweet feeling to come to terms with the inevitable. She and Ron have gone through the very worst to have all they dreamed for, everything she had hoped for ever since she accepted she was in love with him in fifth year.

"To be honest, I was sort of expecting that – you not being in love with him anymore, I mean. Too many problems between you two to be able to go back to how you used to be but not enough to not stand being around each other for the sake of the kids. So if you two end up divorcing, I'm sure you'll be okay. And actually, I was expecting to hear this from Harry – not you. I was kind of betting that Harry was going to say he's in love with you."

Hermione raised a brow. "Harry? Why would you expect to hear Harry to say that? He isn't in love with me."

Gerald snorted obnoxiously. "I'm starting to find it hard to believe that you're the intelligent one of the group now, Hermy."

"He isn't!"

"Not from what I saw."

They reached the door to Hermione's office now; Hermione shrugged Gerald's arm off her as she took out her keys and unlocked the door, promptly pushing her way inside. Taking out her wand to light up the room, she went directly to her desk, knowing Gerald would close the door, and she casted the Silencing Charm on the door from over her shoulder.

"Gerald, be reasonable here. Harry being in love with me? That's like saying Rose falling for Malfoy's son. Impossible. He and I have been best friends for decades and he never once showed me he felt an inkling of affection towards me. I would know – he's never looked at me like he does to Ginny," Hermione continued.

"All I heard was _blah blah blah_ ," Gerald said as he sat down on a chair.

"What would make you think Harry is in love with me?" Hermione asked.

"What would make you think he isn't?" Gerald shot back.

"Gerald," growled Hermione with a hard glare as she crossed her arms. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Gerald said. "You make it sound like Harry feeling something for you is some sort of impossible task. What makes you think that?"

"I can think of a really good one. Aside from that fact that he's in love with Ginny, we've known each other for a long time – if he did feel something, he would have done something about it when he had the chance. And he had plenty. Of course, he had much more important things in mind than to think about relationships and such but he did make time to be able to pursue Cho or Ginny. He never came to me first. The only time he came to me first was for advice on girls and that's about it. That seems enough proof that he only sees me as a sister," Hermione explained.

"Point taken. But you're mostly pointing out the time when he was just a kid. What teenager knows what they really feel in those years? It's a one in a million thing for teens to marry their sweetheart. I'm talking about now – adults with more matured minds. Things change. For example – and no offense to this – but look at you and Ron. Been together for a long time and look at everything now. Why can't Harry's feelings for Ginny change as well? Why can't he feel the same as you?"

"But it's different with Ron and I," Hermione said. "Ginny and Harry aren't going through what we're going through. They're fine."

"From what you know," Gerald retorted. "I know I have no experience whatsoever with marriage but I do have a lot in relationships. The last bloke I went out with before Cole was for six years and everything was normal. We were a couple – hell, we could have been married right now. But then everything I felt for him was going away – the spark wasn't there anymore. I was confused at first when I started to realize it but then I saw it had nothing to with him. It was all me. I didn't quite love him like that anymore because I've changed so much. I met him during the time I would go to clubs and pubs and I was a randy bloke at those times. We stayed together because of the way we were living and my way was changing with every responsibility I took. Then I understood that sometimes falling out of love with someone doesn't need a reason – it happens. You can't really control feelings but you can control how you act on them. He wanted to keep partying, I wanted to build a life. Things change."

"But Harry and Ginny-"

"This isn't about Harry and Ginny – this is about you and Harry. Take your sister out of the equation," Gerald said. He scratched his head and gave her an apprehensive look. "Hermione, I say Harry is in love with you because of what I saw one time. You remember that article they did about you two? The day we went for lunch?"

Hermione nodded. She could never forget that day.

"I told him about the kiss – he knows that I know. I asked him why he snogged you. And Hermione…when he told me, I swear I thought it might have been Ron in disguise because the way he looked when he told me was completely different than any other times. I may sound exaggerating when I say this but if you were there, you would see what I mean – or not since you're so stubborn. But…from the times I hung out with you two, I never once saw Harry look so… _enamored_ when it came to you. Bloody hell, he was looking at your arse that day!" he added with a laugh.

Hermione coughed uncomfortably as she blushed. "Honestly, that's absurd."

"It's not," Gerald said. "I don't think even Harry knows how he looked when he talked about you."

"I don't see how this even proves that Harry has any sorts of affection towards me," grumbled Hermione.

"You know when they say that you know a girl is in love with the sparkle in her eyes and a guy is in love through his smile? Well, one thing they don't tell you is that the way how a man talks about a woman changes too," Gerald explained. "The way how Harry talked about you – how he learned about things he didn't know about you before…it was all…how do I say it?" He paused for a second to contemplate his words before he resumed, " _I_ felt like I was falling for the bloke. That's how much it is."

Hermione bit her lip as she thought about Gerald's words and what she knows. She still did not believe that Harry could possibly be in love with her – not after so many years of friendship. Her facts still stand; if Harry truly has feelings for her then he would have taken action when he had the chance before he and her were involved with Ginny or Ron after the war. They had more time to be able to push past the boundaries of their friendship to share what they have now with their significant other but they never did because Harry saw her as a sister and she was too in love with Ron by then. But then, she cannot deny how serious Gerald is about the topic – he was calling her by her name instead of _'Hermy'_. He only ever does that when he is truly onto something.

Gerald must have noticed her silence because he had gotten up from the chair and stood next to her, leaning against the desk as he watched her.

"Tell me this, Hermy," he said. "Hasn't there been a moment when you thought that he might have actually loved you? More than a friend? Not one?"

Hermione bit her lip while fidgeting with the sleeves of her robe. She reflected on the many memories she held with Harry throughout the years, thinking of his actions and words towards her or about her. Then she smiled a little when she recalled one memory she had forever kept locked in her heart and promised to keep from being known again.

"There was this one time, actually," she began to explain shyly. "It was a long time ago. During the war. We were hunting for Horcruxes. Things have gotten too intense – we were lost, hungry, and scared. Basically desperate. Ron was wearing a Horcrux when it happened; he was fuming at me and Harry, mostly Harry, because we haven't done much progress in finding the other ones. Things were said – stuff happened – and it ended up with Ron leaving. I was devastated. I thought he was stronger than that to have let his emotions get to him but with the Horcrux…Anyway, Harry and I kept going but I was still too sad over Ron that I couldn't focus much on the search." She licked her dry lips. "Then…then Harry, he…one night he did something to cheer me up – he got me to dance around like a lunatic."

Gerald laughed. "Dancing? In the middle of a war?"

Hermione nodded with a smile. "As ridiculous it was to do, it was really enjoyable. Mind you, Harry doesn't like to dance – he didn't actually have that much experience in it. But, he went out of his way to dance with me, and it was fantastic. It was hilarious watching him try to get the rhythm and before I know it, I was laughing and smiling. It felt really good to be able to do that even when everything seemed hopeless for us. But then…something happened. We stopped dancing and Harry, he…he was looking at me in the most peculiar way ever. I've never seen him look at me like that before and I had this feeling that he wanted to kiss me right there. I know I certainly wanted to. It could have been in the heat of the moment but…it was so –"

"Intense?" Gerald guessed with a smirk.

"Yes," Hermione said softly. "But I know that he was just too hurt at the time – forcing himself to break up with Ginny and Ron leaving. If he would have kissed me, it would have been for the wrong reasons."

"But what about you?" Gerald asked. "What if you had kissed him? You said you wanted to but you didn't. How come?"

Hermione sighed. "Because I didn't know if I wanted to kiss him for the same reasons as him or if because I was still in love with him. By that time, I was far too involved with Ron to even believe I could feel that way towards Harry again. I chose Ron the same time I decided to let go of Harry. I would have felt like I was betraying Ron even though we weren't official at the time and it would have made things controversial between them because of me doing something that could have turned into a mistake. But…"

"But?" drawled Gerald.

"Thinking about it now, I can see I never really did let go of Harry," Hermione said. "I was just able to accept the fact that Harry was with Ginny and that is what let me to be happy for him. Don't get me wrong – I was very much happy with Ron, more than you'll know. But I never did get the closure I needed. The feelings were there all this time…I just did so much to not acknowledge it and the routines of my life made it easy for me. Then that night we kissed – oh Merlin, that night!"

Gerald laughed at the exasperation strained in her voice.

"Yes, alcohol is the reason why I did something so rash. I'll admit that my tolerance is very, very low. I'm not much of a drinker. But the feelings…they were the same as that night in the tent. I was so lost in it that I just – I just ended up snogging the life out of him without thinking," Hermione groaned. "It was the most incredible feeling. I knew his kissing was more than satisfactory but good heavens!"

"You wanted to pounce on him," Gerald said teasingly, laughing heartily as Hermione gave him a shove to the arm.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not some sort of slag," Hermione remarked haughtily with a deep blush. "But…it was something. I can't explain."

Gerald smiled softly at her. "You got the same look as him. When he talked about you."

Hermione rolled her eyes before she turned to walk around her desk. Gerald faced her as she sat on her desk and used her wand to bring out the files she needed to review on for the day, stacking them on either side to not block him from her.

"You are the most stubborn person in the world, you know that?"

"I've been told many times," Hermione quipped while taking out her quills and inkpots from the drawers.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that Harry might be in love with you?" Gerald asked.

"Answer me this," Hermione retorted. "Why are you so determined to get me to believe that? It's not like it's going to make a difference. I'm not going to drop my family to chase some sort of pipe dream. I'm not going to chase Harry at all. I already got more important things to worry about than this. My family – my father – my job – right now I have to fix things with Ginny because of what happened."

"I'm not saying to drop everything over him – that's pathetic," Ginny scoffed. "I'm just saying it's not impossible for him to feel the same."

"And it still wouldn't change anything," Hermione said. "Besides everything is alright as they are. Yes, Ron and I had our problems but everyone goes through a rough patch in their marriage –"

"Don't forget the fact that you don't love him anymore," Gerald added quickly.

"- _and_ Harry and Ginny are fine with their marriage as well. Everything is the way as they should be between us all," Hermione continued. "We're all together with children – we're family. Why ruin all of that?"

"But are you happy?"

Hermione found her voice to suddenly be gone when she made to retort and nothing but air only came out. She was not expecting him to ask her that but she was baffled to not be able to answer it easily. It made her think thoroughly; was she truly happy? She cannot find any reason to be upset – she was living the dream that many girls think about in their teens – she has such gifted children she is quite proud to be the mother of – she is part of a family she has loved since she met them – but yet she still felt a bit blank. Could it be because she no longer holds feelings for Ron? Does she wish it was Harry in his position? She found it to be a pathetic reason to not be happy about. Ron was an excellent father to their kids and he works hard as equally as her. But then she remembered that even though he is, she does not love him anymore. It does not change that fact. Maybe she is sad because of that?

Gerald's sigh broke her out of her reverie then she blinked when she felt him take her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. The firm look in his eyes showed her his concern for her and the determination he has been trying to use to get her to believe.

"Look, Hermione, I know I'm not Harry or Ron. We haven't been mates for years like the three of you have been – and please don't mention this to them because I don't want them to think I'm stealing you or anything – but I do see you as my best friend," Gerald spoke in a tone with such sincerity that made Hermione feel lightheaded. "You're the only person in my life who knows what I am and never looked at me any different. You supported me through my relationships with the most idiotic blokes alive and advise me on my choices. I can't thank you enough for that. I just want you to be happy, even if it means being with Harry."

Hermione sighed as she stared at their tangled hands. "Gerald…"

"Like I said, things change," Gerald said. "Maybe Harry didn't love you back then but that doesn't mean he can't love you now. He probably did love Ginny a lot back then too but now that he's older, he will probably have his perspective changed as well. Just think about it, okay."

Hermione nodded wordlessly. Gerald lets go of her hand and leaned forward to give her a kind kiss on the forehead. She closed her eyes at the gesture and she hated herself for finding it difficult to come clean to his words, to the possibility of Harry actually feeling any sense of love towards her. She just could not seem find it in her to actually think that way, not because of their marriages, of their relationships, but because it was Harry alone.

Gerald gave her a hopeful smile, another squeeze on her hand, before he slipped away and turned to walk out of the office.

At the click of the door, Hermione dropped her quill and leaned back into her chair with a huff as she buried her face in her hands, breathing deeply to remain calm. Many thoughts ran through her mind, many emotions flooded inside her. All of Gerald's words have taken a toll on her. She was left in a chaotic mess of confusion. Harry being in love with her? She will admit that she did not believe it to be impossible that he could be but she sees it as a slim chance to be a reality. Yet, the way how Gerald was so persistent to make her see what he saw and thinks makes her wonder.

Hermione rubbed her hands over her face, groaning inwardly while thinking, _You're such a mess, Granger_. She decided to shrug off her thousand racing thoughts and the bubbling feelings inside her, and took her quill to begin writing on the parchments. She let one more thought run through her head as she wrote:

 _Just friends. Nothing more, nothing less._

* * *

Around lunchtime, Hermione was quick, very quick, to leave her office and reach the Apparation zone to arrive in Harry's home. She has many more papers to finish but she had left them under Julie's care, to her relief, as she had heard about Harry's presentation to the media and was glad to be able to take up most of her responsibilities for the day.

The moment she landed in front of the gate of the Potter household, she was glad to see that no Muggle was in sight to catch her, but then she felt a chill go through her as she stared at the magnificent, restored home. A part of her hoped that Ginny had not taken an early lunch break to check on Harry because she did not want to have another reason to have a fuss with her. She had intended to make a small distance respectful enough for Ginny to not think suspicious of her or Harry and the many days she had not seen Harry must have been enough to show that there is clearly no inappropriate matter among them.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione pushed through the gate and moved soundly to the front door with each hesitant step becoming less. Her thoughts on Harry's good health kept her walking under the brick archway and rapidly knock the door three times. She waited patiently for a couple of minutes, returning the greets she would receiving from any neighbors who walked by or others who come out of their homes to add gruesome decorations on their houses. Halloween was coming very soon; she needed to ask Hugo what he wanted to dress as this year and to know which neighborhood he wanted to raid candies from. She wondered if Harry will visit his parent's grave this year. He usually does but right now she thinks it depends how bad his mental condition is that he could handle standing in front of his parent's tomb.

Sounds came from behind the door; footsteps coming close and a muffling voice. It was a male. Hermione's first reaction was to take out her wand and burst inside the home, fearing that it might have been one of Harry's enemies, but as she listened to the voice, she can hear that it did not sound the least bit threatening. She stood still, licking her chapped lips as she waited anxiously now.

"Coming!" the voice called out, amusement tinged in it. A moment later, the multiple locks clacked undone and the door swung open. A blob of spikey turquoise hair is the first thing Hermione saw.

"Teddy!" she grinned.

"Hey Mum-Ne," Teddy said as he held the door wider for her to step inside.

She shivered as she felt warmth surround her instantly. Fall was bringing out the breezes of the afternoon nowadays, preparing for the fright holiday coming up next week.

"Don't you work today?" Teddy asked as he closed the door and redid the locks.

"Took an early leave," Hermione answered casually. "Where's Harry?"

"He's upstairs taking a shower. He should be done by now. Do you think you can get him for me? I got lunch just about ready," Teddy said politely.

"Sure." Hermione nodded. "But where's Ginny? I thought she doesn't work today."

"She got owled in for work a few minutes ago. She asked me to come over and watch over Papa," Teddy answered. "She'll be back in a few, I think. Will you be here until then?"

"I just came by to see how Harry is doing. I'm planning to visit my father later."

"Oh, okay. Well, Papa is doing fine so far – nothing unordinary happened since I got here. He does seem a bit – wait, what's that smell? Bloody hell, the chips!"

Teddy rushed out to the kitchen and Hermione did not move; she glanced up at the narrow staircase, contemplating if it was really a smart idea to volunteer in bringing Harry out of his room. The master bedroom. The most personal room in all of the house. The one Harry shares with Ginny, his wife. And she was an accused woman by said wife for being too emotionally and physically close to her husband. It was not a good idea now that Hermione thought about it. But Teddy was already expecting her to meet him in the kitchen with Harry.

With a sigh, Hermione climbed up the stairs, cringing at the creaking sounds under her weight, and instinctively walked down the hall towards the bedroom. She noticed that the door was completely open and cautiously peeked inside by the doorway, scanning over the unmade bed, the few articles of clothing bunched up on the floor. It looked like it is pictured to be by two lover, as a room where two people unite in holy intimacy and shed any fear they hold, where they share a bed of the home they live in. Hermione felt her stomach wretch and twist horribly at the image of Harry and Ginny becoming a mess of wildness on the bed. She felt like she would retch on the floor then and there.

However, she swallowed her sickness and lightly knocked on the doorframe, glancing over at the other door in the room, seeing it to be slightly ajar.

"Harry?" she called out.

Silence is what met her call. She kept her eyes on the door, expecting a pair of green emerald to peek through the small crack. She rapped on the frame once more only harder.

"Harry? Teddy has lunch ready," she said, her voice wavering slightly. A nervous lump leapt in her throat as the silence felt still. She can feel his presence somewhere near the room. She listened carefully; she can hear a sort of rough breathing coming from the private bathroom, almost like someone was choking on oxygen, a couple of grunts that sounded like an animal struggling with pain, and a couple of sniffles.

Hermione stepped forward, daring herself to enter a territory her name is not branded on to feed off her curiosity and kill the fear fighting within her. As she neared the door, she can hear the noises clearer, and when she pushed the door open, she was left voiceless at the sight that was held before her; Harry was clad in only his boxers, clutching on the edges of the sink so hard that his knuckles have gone pale, his eyes screwed shut tightly that the corners were crinkled, his nostrils failed as he breathed through them harshly, gasping in air, as he muttered out incoherent words through his grunts. His muscles would flex and his head would twitch to the sides. His glasses were on the counter in a safe distance from him.

"Harry," she breathed out, in relief at first, only to let out a gasp when he suddenly started to smack himself upside on the head, his grunting turning angrier. "Harry!"

Hermione lunged forward to trap his swinging hands and held them down on the sink in straggling grasps, her eyes wide. Harry was still muttering words she could not understand wholly but she managed to catch some along the lines _"…hair…left…spell"_ and she tried to piece together what memories he had triggered to make him act so vulnerably dangerous. He only ever acted this way if he was having nightmares or flashbacks. She chose the latter.

"Harry, listen to me," she said. "Whatever it is, it's done. It's over with. You're not there."

Harry kept mumbling more words; _"kill it…just do it…done…_ "

"Harry, please," Hermione tried again. "You need to breathe. You need to remember that you're not there anymore. You're alright now. We're all ok-"

Suddenly Harry escaped from grasps and he pushed her against the walls, his hands now gripping on her arms too tightly that made her wince. She stared at him, frightened, as he stared down at her with uncontrolled rage and wild desperation. Hermione knew this dangerous man was not Harry – not the Harry she knew of today. His mind was gone – he was back in the war. He was having trouble trying to tell what is reality and what is a memory.

"Ron, stab it!" he hissed. "Kill it!"

Hermione gasped. She knew now that he was going back to the time Ron had destroyed the Horcrux. She tried to reach for her wand in her pocket but the hold he has on her arms makes it impossible for her to move her arms down. She was trapped like a defenseless animal under the clutches of a hungry beast. She was the lamb. He was the wolf. He was going to slaughter her. She was going to be his meal. She had no choice – magic was out of the question now. Her only hope is to reason with him verbally.

"Harry, wake up!" she said. "It's not real!"

"Stab it!" Harry shouted. "It's not real! It's playing with your head!"

"Harry, the Horcruxes are destroyed! Voldemort is dead – you defeated him! It's over!"

"What are you waiting for? Stab it! Kill it now!"

Harry's hands were beginning to dig into Hermione's arms as he continued to shout, his nails piercing into her skin and mark red. It sent a shot of pain into her. Hermione glanced over Harry's shoulder, hoping to find a solution for the both of them, and then her eyes brightened in relief when she saw the shape of Harry's wand lying on top of the toilet lid.

"Harry, you're hurting me!" whimpered Hermione.

"KILL IT!"

Hermione twisted her wrist to point her hand towards the toilet and said, " _Accio Harry's wand!_ " The wand flew across the room and landed in Hermione's hand. She nearly lets out another whimper when Harry now started to shake her and his fingers dig deeper into her skin, almost touching her bones.

"Stab the blasted-"

Hermione, without thinking, rammed her head into Harry's, causing him to finally release her arms and stagger back a few steps in lost balance. Ignoring the pain throbbing on her forehead, she pointed his wand at him.

" _Memoro!"_

Hermione watched as Harry's eyes became glazed over, standing completely still. She kept the wand pointed at him for safety. She had not used this spell for years because Harry had gotten better in maintaining an easy head, to diverse the truth from the lies that his mind would do to him, whether in the middle of the night or day, and she had no doubt that she had gotten it right but the turn of events still left her shaken up. She felt her hand tremble around the wand when Harry groaned and close his eyes as he held his head.

"Harry," she whispered, not trusting her voice any higher. "Are you okay now?"

"Ugh," grunted Harry, swaying slightly on the spot. "Er…nee?"

"Yes, it's me," she said, taking a tentative step closer to him, the wand still at the ready. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," Harry murmured. "Er…my head…"

Hermione inched closer to him, slowly lowering the wand, while watching him stumble back onto the sink and rub his temples. She was standing a foot in front of him, fighting back the urge to bury him in a fierce hug. She had been so scared – not for her, but for him as well. He sounded too worried and full of desperation when he called out to Ron to destroy the Horcrux. They have told her how Ron managed to do the task but they never told her how they felt or what had been said among them. Hearing what Harry might have told Ron left her with tingles.

Harry took his glasses and plucked them on. "What happened? Everything feels fuzzy. Did I pass-" Harry paused, his eyes now cold and dead as they stared at her; she followed his gaze down to her arm and saw that she had red nail markings on her skin as well as bruises that were now turning into a deep purplish color. Hermione looked back at him in guilt.

"Harry, it's fine. You weren't conscious-"

"I did that?"

"Don't worry about it, Harry. Only a bruise."

"Don't worry about it?" Harry repeated in disbelief. "Hermione, that's – are you mental? I hurt you!"

"You weren't yourself," Hermione pointed out. "There's no need to go mad over it. I'm fine." She placed the wand on the sink, but as she did, she ran her other hand through his sloppy wet hair, seeing the famous scar of his come to view. "I'm just glad you're okay. No headache?"

"No," said Harry briskly. "I blacked out, didn't I?"

Before Hermione could answer, a couple of rapid footsteps were heard stomping into the room, and a red-faced Teddy Lupin is seen standing at the doorway of the bathroom, clutching on the frames.

"What happened? I heard screaming," he said, glancing between the brunette witch and the dark-haired wizard.

"Everything is fine, Teddy," lied Hermione quickly. "Harry had a sort of mishap. He slipped and fell on water."

Teddy glanced between the two, curious and doubtful. Hermione could not blame him for not taking her story right away. He must have seen the bruises on her arm and the look of despair on Harry's face. It was the first story that came to mind as soon as she heard him coming. She was more focused on Harry feeling better.

A minute later, Teddy said, "As long as you're both alright."

Harry nodded. "We are. Is lunch ready? I'm starving."

"Just finished it," Teddy said. He turned to Hermione. "I made some more for you too, Mum-Ne. Figured you didn't eat with you taking an early leave and all."

Hermione gave him a tentative smile. "Thank you, Teddy. I appreciate it."

"I'll go and serve them up," insisted Teddy. He gave the both of them another apprehensive glance and a slight smile before he turned and left.

Hermione went back to Harry, who was now staring at her in surprise and, she could have sworn, adoration had flickered across his eyes, but she pegged it to be her mind doing tricks on her. Her talk with Gerald earlier was still crawling in the back of her head.

"You took an early leave?" he asked dubiously.

Hermione blushed. "Yes," she said meekly. "I was worried about you. The way you looked back in the Ministry was just alarming. I had to come and see if you were okay."

Harry gave a weak smile. "Sorry about that. I just had to get out of there really quick. Who knows how long it would have taken me to get out of them if they cornered me."

"Harry." Hermione puts her hand on his arm, ignoring that she was not standing in a steam-filled bathroom with a boxer-clad Harry. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I was just – I don't know what happened," Harry admitted after a feeble attempt to cover his true story. "I was just about to shave and…and…and when I looked in the mirror – that's all I remember. I think I blacked out."

"You did," Hermione confirmed. "You were remembering the time you and Ron destroyed Voldemort's locket. You were telling him to stab it."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Harry murmured. He placed his hand on the one on his arm, rubbed his thumb over the back, then gave her wounded eyes and a frown. "I'm sorry. I hurt you."

Hermione shook his head. "No apologies. It wasn't really you. I know you would never hurt me."

"You don't have to make it sound so noble," Harry said. "You have a bruise on your head."

Hermione touched the light bump on her forehead, flinched, and then laughed slightly, "You sure have a hard head, Harry. Remind me to never do that again."

"Noted."

"You want me to bring your lunch up here?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be down now. I need to shave."

"Okay."

Hermione slipped away, as Harry turned to the sink and turned on the faucet, but she paused by the door for a moment to glance back at him for a second. She smiled a little as he applied the shaving cream over his stubble and wet his razor, enjoying the sight of him coming back to a content state. She could not explain it but she can felt normal in the atmosphere of laziness and simplicity. She could get used to moments like this, whether it was in the haze of the morning or the uneventful afternoon, as long as she gets to bask in the glorious bliss.

Hermione was about to leave him to his privacy but then she noticed that he had not shaved at all; Harry's hand was holding the razor, except it was trembling violently, almost causing him to drop it into the porcelain bowl. He seemed to actually be struggling to keep a hold of his own hand more than his grasp on the razor.

"Harry, are you sure you're okay?" she asked as she stepped back in the bathroom and stood next to him.

"Yeah, I am, I just," Harry grunted in anger, seeing that he still cannot stop the shake in his hand. "I can't make it stop. The memories, they…they just won't go away now. The Horcruxes…the war…the deaths, they…I just…"

Hermione watched him through the reflection of his mirror while he raised the shaking razor to his face, barely able to even touch the cream on his face. She can feel a burning ache in her heart to see him attempting to do something as simple as shaving. The memory of him and Ron overtaking the Horcrux nineteen years ago must have disturbed him too dreadfully to make him act physically ill. She wanted him to stop – she wanted those memories to stop coming back to haunt him and make his life even more impossible to live in. She wanted him to feel like he did not have to make himself suffer in guilt over the deaths, the lives of those who fought alongside with him. She wanted him to see the good that came from the bad – she wanted him to be happy. She can see her vision became blurring as tears filled up at the edge of her eyes.

"Stop," she said softly. She took the razor from him and gently turned him to her. Her breath hitched when his eyes met hers, overwhelming her with the many years of remorse, sorrow, heartbreak, and melancholy of the bereavements of his loved ones. She wanted him to stop feeling like this. She gently held his chin as she brought the razor up and started to carefully shave him, glancing up at him once in a while.

Harry never brought his gaze on her. And she doesn't want him to. She wants him to always have his eyes on her, to only see her in his eyes. Like in this very moment, just the two of them, he was only seeing her and she doesn't want it to end. But she was realistic. She knew her time with him if forever limited. He has his life. She has hers. That is why she did not believe it when Gerald told her that Harry is in love with her – it was unrealistic for him to feel that way towards her. He couldn't possibly love her now after so long. He didn't love her then so why would he love her now?

"Thank you," whispered Harry, his voice thick. "And I'm sorry-"

"Don't," she cut him off in the same low voice as she went to shave under his sideburns. "It's alright now."

Harry swallowed roughly and then held her arm, stopping her from shaving. He lowered his head to give her a gentle kiss on her forehead, soothing down the small bump of her forehead, lingering longer than Hermione familiar with, but she did not hate it. She closed her eyes at his touch, and a part of her was actually believing in Gerald's words; that Harry truly does love her in the way she loves him. She quickly crushed that small part as Harry pulled away from her and looked down at her with a tiny smile that she returned sheepishly. She went back to shaving his face, feeling her knees threatening to buckle from her emotions.

In the back of her mind she can literally hear Gerald as if he was right there with them: _Maybe Harry didn't love you back then but that doesn't mean he can't love you now._

* * *

 **A:N:** I will be honest with you all, I've never seen anyone in person with PTSD. I've done research and watching movie scenes to see if I can catch the gusto of it but I feel like I've failed. I truly did try. I'm sorry if I did not reach your expectations about it. You are free (like always) to criticize my mistake.

 ** _Memoro:_** I remember.

 **Please review!**


	20. Curable Poison

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the character and locations used in it, or the songs mentioned.

This is the final chapter in Hermione's PoV. The next one will return to Harry's. Also I hope you all like the little surprise at the end of this chapter - some of you probably expected it - some of you didn't.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _I've been so scared of these dangerous moods_

 _But I'm finding I'm so much different than you_

 _And it has to come down to who we choose to be_

 _I may lose everything_

 _But you never had it, had it_

 _Well once i felt nothing_

 _Now I feel sorry, sorry for you_

\- I May Lose Everything; Ministry of Magic

* * *

 _"When I choose one then I lose the other. And I know that I can't love them both, I know that it's wrong but I…I don't wanna lose anyone else. I have to let one of them go."_

\- Elena Gilbert; The Vampire Diaries

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: Curable Poison**

Hermione laughed at the stories Teddy told her of his work in Romania as they continued to wash the dishes at the sink. She still doesn't rule out the fact that she despises the dangers that come with his job with the dragons but she will admit that the process that comes from their studies in the dragons were comical. She cannot believe that someone was brave and idiotic enough to actually roast a sausage up close to the dragon as it breathed fire. She thought that only happened in Hugo's cartoons and she figured that is where they got it from.

Ginny still hasn't gotten home yet; Hermione had stayed to eat lunch with Harry and Teddy. Although she knew Teddy was strong enough to hold down Harry if he ever broke out, but Harry was a lot stronger from his work as an Auror, and she wanted to make sure that he was actually stable enough before she left. She also wanted to spend time with Teddy. She does not regret her decision as she was able to see Harry laugh and smile with Teddy, seeing the two boys get lost in their world of odd humor and fascination in Quidditch, but she was still cautious of the time. She did not want to be here when Ginny comes home – she does not want to make problems worse.

Hermione was glad that lunch did not take long to finish. As soon as they were done with their plates, Hermione went to clean the dishes and Teddy offered his services. She did not mind; she liked being able to do the things they used to do together when he was younger. Harry went to the den to watch television. For a minute, Hermione felt like she was flung back in time to when Teddy was under Harry's care; she would be the one in the kitchen with Ginny and Molly, washing and drying, and entertained by a bubbly Teddy on his high chair. The boys would be in the den watching the television or listening to the Wireless for Quidditch matches. Those were the good and less complicated days.

Teddy was drying a glass when he asked, "Are you staying here longer?"

"I can't," Hermione shook her head. "I need to go and visit my father."

Teddy pouted and nodded as he put the glass in place in the cupboard. Hermione frowned at his quietness. She knew he wanted her to stay. His time was limited. Harry had gotten out of the hospital but he was not better and he could anytime soon then it would mean for Teddy to go back to Romania. He wanted to spend time with the only family he grew up with and missed the most. She wanted the same.

"You know later we're going to the Burrow for supper," Hermione said. "Before that, Luna and I might come back for a playdate for the kids. Lily doesn't want to leave Harry so we figured it'd be best if it was here."

Teddy beamed. "I'd like that. Maybe I can play _Stack 'Em Up_ like old times."

Hermione chuckled, rolling her eyes. It was a game he had invented for the kids around when Rose and Hugo were six. It was basically them trying to stack up a pile of their belongings until it falls. The last one to add to the stack loses.

"I'm sure they will like that," Hermione said. She saw that she was done with the dishes after she handed Teddy the last plate. "Just please make sure neither of them try to be part of the pile. Lily ended up getting hurt last time."

"She was a baby," protested Teddy. "Mum-Gin and Papa forgave me for that."

"She was still a baby," Hermione pointed out.

"The main thing is that she's still alive right now," Teddy said. He started to mumble under his breath, "Sheesh, one little mistake and you're scarred for life. Can't let it go."

Hermione laughed and playfully ruffled his turquoise hair. Teddy shook her hand out of his hair and tried to push her hand away but she kept returning to mess up more of his spikes. Eventually, Teddy had to lean away from her to avoid her hands but Hermione would follow him and continue with her mischiefs on his hair.

"Mum-Ne!" he whined.

"I swear you're so much like Harry. Your hair is untamable," Hermione retorted as she ran her fingers through his messy hair, only to huff when one stand after another started to stand tall again.

"Isn't that how Papa got witches to throw themselves at him?" Teddy asked humorously.

"He never liked the attention of those witches. They always wanted him for his title," Hermione said disapprovingly. "And I don't think you should be thinking like that anymore, young man. You're in a relationship. If a witch throws herself at you – you better shove her back where she came from."

"Hey, I'm loyal," Teddy said in mock hurt. "You know I'm a one-witch bloke, Mum-Ne. How could you think that way about me?"

Hermione ignored her as she kept running her fingers through his hair again and again. "I don't get it. How is it naturally spikey? Even when you were younger, I could never keep it down. Not even magical or Muggle products can tame it."

When she stopped for a moment to stare the newly combed hair, feeling a bit of hope as she sees that it was miraculously neat, until a particular section became stubborn and she huffed in irritation as the strands sprang up.

"Honestly," she muttered. "Your hair is awful."

Teddy's eyebrows rose mockingly at her. "Do you give up?"

"Just you watch, Edward Lupin, I will find a way to get that hair of yours under control," said Hermione stubbornly.

"Don't call me Edward!" Teddy complained.

Tossing the dishtowel in the sink, Hermione smirked. "Anyway, I'm going to get and check on Harry. He's been too quiet."

"Give him this," Teddy went to the icebox and carefully pulled out a goblet. "It has some Calming Draught in it. Papa's Healer said he should take one every four hours."

"Okay," Hermione said as Teddy handed her the goblet. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, not before she did one final attempt to flatten his hair, making him laugh at her huff.

"Give it up, will you?" Teddy rolled his eyes.

"Since when do I ever?" Hermione grinned before she turned and left the kitchen.

But what she saw in the living room left her heart to crumble in pieces. Harry was sitting on the couch, all numb and unmoving, staring at the BBC news on the television. He looked as cold as a statue. His eyes were dead. On the news, there was a report on seven children kidnapped and one found dead in a ditch by the road to Scotland. It is currently viewing the paramedics loading the body in the ambulance on a stretcher and several policemen investigating the area as the reporter commented on the situation.

Harry was unmoving throughout the whole scene.

Hermione quickly walked around, took the remote from Harry's hand, and switched the channel to a kid's program. She looked at Harry somberly, seeing that he still hasn't moved an inch of a muscle nor broken his gaze on television. But she can see now that he did look pale. She tentatively sat next to him, clutching the goblet tightly, as she cautiously placed a hand on his, stroking his battered knuckles and watching him. He never moved. She tried a different approach; she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. His sharp inhale made her pull back instantly and he turned his head to her. She held her breath as he gazed down at her, feeling her heartbeat race a thousand marathons at once the longer he did.

Finally, he smiled at her weakly and whispered, "I'm okay" as he took her hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. She was not sure if it was for her or for him.

"Here," she said while slipping her hand from his to replace it with the goblet.

"Calming Draught," he murmured. It was more of a statement.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Healer's orders."

"Yeah," he said lowly. He lifted it to his lips, tilted his head back, and downed the whole goblet in one swallow before he gave the goblet back to Hermione, who stared at him in amazement.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Hermione asked, placing the goblet on the coffee table.

"No blackouts – no flashbacks – I guess you could say I'm doing alright." Harry gestured one hand to the television. "I was watching that, you know."

"You know you shouldn't watch stuff like that when you're-"

"Pathetic? Weak?" Harry laughed without humor through gritted teeth. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that one. Then again, you're always right."

"No Harry, you know I didn't mean it like that," Hermione began to explain. "I was going to say you shouldn't watch stuff like that after everything that's happening. You're already going through enough and you don't need to be reminded every second by watching what's happening in the Muggle world."

"Because I'll just go mental like I did up there, right?" Harry said. "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

"No Harry-"

"Don't lie to me!" Harry told her firmly. He was looking at her now with a desperate look, almost looking like he was going to break down. "I know you're here so I wouldn't go out of control. You don't need to pretend to hide you're here babysitting me for Ginny. She's been getting people to watch over me "

Hermione, feeling hurt by his words and angered for him accusing her in such a way, moved to kneel in front of him and then held him by his head to make sure he is looking directly into her eyes. She wanted him to see the actuality – the truth behind her reason being there with him and for him, to make him stop believing in the negativity he had stored in his head. She wanted him to break through the depressing cloud looming over his common sense and to be able to spark up that light of belief he always has for her, to make the same for him.

"Harry, I didn't come here for anybody else – just for you," she told him truthfully. "Yes, I'll admit, I was worried about you because I didn't want you to go through what just happened upstairs. But I came here on my own accord. I haven't spoken to Ginny in a while. I was scared for you – I still am. I just want you to be safe. I don't want you to mentally suffer over what already happened – or anything. I just want you to – uh, Harry?"

Hermione is always one to show her affection and other emotions for her through display – it is part of who she is. She could not remember a time when she doesn't end up clinging to Harry's arm, holding Harry's hand, or flinging her arms around him in the heat of the moment. She was accustomed to be the one to do such things. So when she found herself being hugged by Harry, she was really happy yet a bit awkward. She knew that Harry was not one to show his emotions so easily aside from anger and sadness, especially when it comes to women – friend or lover. But it touched her how he is passing his discomfort to do so.

"Don't move," Harry whispered into her shoulder, the warmth of his breath sweeping over the juncture of her neck and sending ripples of shiver down her spine.

Hermione did not know what to do with her hands and she did not move like he instructed. This is a new side of Harry she had never met before when it came to her. He probably did share such intimate moments like this with Ginny that they never spoke about. He never did open to her in such a way that ended with him being physically vulnerable to her. In his earlier stages of fighting this disorder, he would be sent away whenever he had an episode, and she or Ron were not allowed to see him until he was cleared in the mind.

"How do you do it, Hermione?" Harry asked. "Not thinking about it. Or getting nightmares and flashbacks. How'd you do it?"

Hermione pursed her lips, utterly speechless. No one has ever asked her that before. No one really had the time to ask her in the first place. Everyone was busy battling against their own demons like she was as well. It has been a long time since she last had a struggle to not think about the war, about the deaths, about the pain, or about the sacrifices of the injured and the war victims. It had become natural for her to move on. The only time she let herself remember is on that fated date of the horrid event.

But she can see it is different for Harry; he takes everything to heart. Every person, every bond, every kind of love he has for them – that is what made his heart the way it is. It was grown up battered and cracked in many ways until he met her and Ron, slowly healing away the wounds of having no company or no importance. Little by little, his heart grew with every person he let in. He let his misshaped adopted family to live in the tiny home of his heart that their souls practically became part of him. Everything the others felt, he would feel it too. Whether he understood them or not, he would feel them.

Ron being overshadowed – Harry understood that by going through the same with his cousin, Dudley. Remus being out casted for being a werewolf – Harry could relate from his years in primary school because of his hand-me-downs. Sirius being shunned from his family – Harry could recall the many times he's been ignored because he was a wizard. Teddy being a war orphan – Harry sees himself in the young wizard. Ginny understanding him when it means being possessed by Voldemort – Harry instantly connected with her. And then her, Hermione, being constantly bullied, raised by Muggles, having high expectations, having no friends, and not knowing anything about the wizarding world until she got her Hogwarts letter – Harry is her other half.

Every person in Harry's life holds a similarity in them that Harry could embrace through personal experience. It is impossible for him to forget them, not because of his memories with them, but because of his heart. Hermione concluded that to be the reason why he could not be completely treated from his disorder.

There was a point when Hermione came to accept she was also suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress from the many sleepless nights of nightmares and the random flashbacks. She would be brought back to the night she was being brutally tortured by Bellatrix at the Malfoy Manor and then she'd wake up screaming, pleading for the Death Eater to stop using the Cruciatus Curse on her, and psychologically feeling the torment of her arm being sliced. The only ones who helped her through those nights were Harry and Ron. They are the only ones who understood what she went through and were strong enough to hold her hand through the maze in her mind. Perhaps that is how she is able to no longer think back to those days? Maybe that's why the only time she allows herself to go back is the date of the war? She came to accept what she went through and she is forever scarred from it no matter how long she lives. Is that the true treatment of PTSD? It could be possible.

"I…I had you and Ron…you both were there for me…we all were there for each other," she said in the same whispering wisps as him. "I…I still get nightmares from time to time but they don't scare me as much as they used to."

Harry breathed out, "How'd you manage that?"

Hermione licked her lips. "I accepted them. As much as I wish that they weren't real, that won't change anything. Whenever those nightmares come, I let them. I have to face my demons somehow and crying about it won't help. The more I come to terms with whatever the nightmare is about, the easier it is to not think about it too much."

Harry rubbed his fingers on her lower back, tracing the feel of her spine. Hermione's breath hitched at his touch, shocked to feel his hands were more downwards than she expected. She was too enthralled with the sound of his steady breathing and the smell of his freshly mint-scent that she did not remember his hands.

"You haven't accepted your past yet, Harry," Hermione said. "And you won't be able to if you keep your job."

"I'm not going to quit," Harry sneered. "I'm already in too deep with this case. I can't back out now. If I do that then it will cause a riot in the public. They'll never live it down."

"But Harry-"

"Hermione, I want it to stop," Harry said. "I want it all to stop. The flashbacks – the nightmares – I want it all gone. But I can't just stop – I need to keep going."

Hermione pulled back from him but still remained in his arms; his hands, which had slid down to her hips, gripped her tighter to keep her from distancing any further from him. She was aware of the compromising position they were in – her kneeling between his legs, him holding her desperately, and the close proximity of their bodies. She made an attempt to discreetly slip out of his grasp but he, possibly, held her much firmly to maintain her in place. She then placed her hands on his shoulders to try to push him back a little, but she didn't put any force into it. She just let them lie there. She was too engrossed with the passion blazing in his green eyes from what he spoke. Her heart might have stopped seeing this.

"You promised," she whispered.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head to one side, perplexity clear on his face.

"You promised me that you'd be careful on the mission," she explained. "You were supposed to come back unharmed and in one piece – you were barely together. You hardly are now."

Harry sighed. "Hermione, I was careful on the mission. I-"

"If you were then you wouldn't have been hospitalized," Hermione interrupted him.

"It's part of my job!" Harry said calmly, though his voice did sound hard. "You can't expect me to just go out there and not anticipate something bad to not happen while I'm out there. I'm not going on vacation with the other Aurors. I'm hunting _criminals_ , Hermione. Killers. Rapists. Child molesters. Every single horrible thing in the book is out there and it's my job to take them out!"

"It's not your job anymore!" said Hermione, rising up to her feet and crossing her arms as she glowered down at Harry. "You already did your part years ago – defeating Voldemort. That is all you had to do. Nobody made you to go into the Auror Training Program. That was all your doing. You're forcing yourself to go through all of this and look how you end up every time a mission doesn't go so well. Need I remind you how you were the first time?"

Hermione knew she hit a low blow after that. Harry's eyes soften and he looked down. There was a noisy sound of a phone ringing, cutting into the tension of the room, coming from the main hallway, and she could hear Teddy raced towards it, eventually answering the call. The footsteps sounded near – she figured he must have been listening in on her and Harry for the past few minutes that have past. It felt like hours to her.

"Did you really have to go there?" Harry murmured.

"If it means getting through your thick skull then yes," Hermione said. "Harry, I need you to see this through my perspective as well. Through everybody's, really."

"But you didn't have to bring up that mission again," Harry retorted heatedly. "If I had conjured up the shield in time then that Death Eater wouldn't have gotten Ron. He got badly injured and he was hospitalized for three weeks until he got the feeling in his arm back. Do you know how I felt having to see my best friend like that? And knowing I could have prevented it if I hadn't been too focused on getting Yaxley? He could have died!"

"And how do you think we feel?" Hermione challenged. "How do you think I felt when I saw you? I'll tell you – the same way you felt when you saw Ron. Only ten times worse!"

"But I'm alive," Harry said somberly. "If it weren't for Grumps – he should be here. If I just stayed more vigilant of my surroundings then I could have brought him home to his family and captured Yaxley and Jugson in the process."

"This is what I mean," said Hermione forcefully. "You keep on letting yourself in these situations. You blame yourself for other people's deaths or injuries. You make them your responsibility. You make people's lives yours. You don't have to do that anymore. You were free from it the moment Voldemort was vanquished. You could be living a better life."

"And what kind of life can I live then, Hermione?" Harry shot back. "I'm fresh out of options for careers."

"There are plenty of options out there for you," Hermione chided. "If I recall, you were great at many things back in Hogwarts. You're great at many things now as well."

"Quidditch," Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Being showered in hordes of worshipping fangirls and put down by those who envy me – that sounds more like me trying to be put into the spotlight even more. I had enough of that."

"You're still in the spotlight," Hermione pointed out grimly. "But no, I don't mean Quidditch. That is more of a hobby for you to do on the side to relieve stress. You're much more than that."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well," Hermione sat down next to him on the couch and gave him a gentle smile, "you are brilliant in potions. Your O.W.L's proved that and I'm sure your N.E.W.T's would have been proficient too. You could be a Potion Maker – I heard their payments are quite good. You have been able to master Legilimency and Occulmency over the years but I assume you mostly use that on the children. You're also quite good at Healing Magic to some extent. Maybe you could be a Healer but, oh, that does require you to have passed your N.E.W.T's. And then there's teaching-"

"I knew sooner or later, you'd mention that," Harry grinned. It seemed that their discussion had changed from gloom to bright in a matter of seconds.

Hermione have him a light shove. "I'm serious. You'd be brilliant as a teacher. Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts would probably be where you'll stay. Or perhaps Charms – you were able to learn some advanced spells so I'm sure you can teach them. Oh, maybe even Flying lessons and you could put your Quidditch skills to good use teaching the basics to first years."

"Half of those positions are still taken by our old professors," Harry stated.

"Professor Slughorn would probably retire," Hermione said. "And I highly doubt Lockhart is going to stay there forever. He's just promoting his rubbish book."

"You didn't think they were so rubbish before," Harry smirked with a chuckle.

"I was thirteen!"

Harry laughed as he dodge the unforceful punches Hermione was sending his way and held her by her wrist, holding them down not so tightly, but she did struggle to yank them out of her grasp. Hermione saw that his playful ways had actually made the small thin line of distance between them to go nonexistent and their sides were pressed together as he still held down her hands. She tried not to think how it made her heart beat like rapid drums or her face warm.

"What about Flying class then?" Harry inquired. "I doubt Madam Hooch is willing to give up that class. And becoming a Healer is out of the question. Like you said, I need my N.E.W.T's for that. I didn't go back to Hogwarts for my final year."

"Then how about a Spell Caster?" Hermione suggested.

Harry raised a brow. "A Spell Caster?"

"Yes – and let go of my hands, will you, Harry? They're starting to cramp!" Hermione said exasperatedly. She lets out a breath once he complied and rubbed her slightly sore wrists. "Surely you must know what a Spell Caster is."

Harry shook his head no.

Hermione was astonished. "Really? I would think you being an Auror you would know."

"I'm more focused in criminal and justice, Hermione. It's basically twenty-four-seven of my life," Harry said.

"Unfortunately," muttered Hermione before she spoke out in a clearer voice, "Where do you think all of we get all of the charms and spells we've learned over the years? The latest textbook editions on magic? They're not just stuff they write down overnight and pray it will work by morning. These things do come out of somewhere."

"I thought the books we used were by the wizards who invented them."

"They were but not anymore. People have gotten really lazy to come up with new material ever since the war. They think they don't need to learn any more new magic because there's no danger. But this one wizard from Japan chose to be the odd man out and had started to create new charms when he was fifteen. He started a group of other rather creative people who have interesting idea of magic. Half of them we used today. If it weren't for them, I don't think we would have the counter-spells of the ones we couldn't deflect before. They invent a spell, check it with the Ministry, and if it's approved, they'll give it to a writer to include it in schoolbooks," added Hermione.

"And how do you know about this? Did you read it in a book or a news edition?"

"Yes, I did," Hermione grinned at the disbelief face painted on Harry's face. " _The Guide to Making Magic_. I found the book written by them when I was doing research on the False Memory Charm I used on my parents and they had invented the reversal charm I needed. If it weren't for them, I don't think they'd be here now."

"But you were gone for months when you were looking for your parents," Harry said.

"I stayed longer with them to make up for the loss of time," Hermione answered. "Also, they wanted me there to make sure I was actually safe after I told them everything. I didn't want to have them blame you or Ron so I stayed. It wasn't a total lost. I missed you and Ron immensely but it was nice being with them again."

Harry nodded. "So these Spell Casters come up with new spells and charms every year?"

"It's their job," Hermione said. "Think of it as an artist trying to come up with a new piece or a doctor trying to come up with a medicine that will cure cancer. That's what they do – come up with new and better spells."

"That's interesting," Harry mused. "How come you never decided to be a Spell Caster?"

Hermione waved him off. "I only come up with spells for smaller stuff. They make advanced magic that will be much more useful."

"And you think I should?"

"You do have a knack of being creative," Hermione said earnestly. "Like your Bewitched Contract?"

"But Kingsley was part of it too," Harry started to protest but he was cut short by Hermione holding up her hand.

"You came up with it so that makes you the creator," Hermione responded.

"Not that much. Most of my brilliant moments are out of desperation. I still don't think being a Spell Caster is for me," Harry remarked. He looked up at her. "Like I said, there aren't much of options for me. And I don't plan to quit my job either. Not until I have all criminals captured."

Hermione glared. "Why do you make it so hard to make life easier for you?"

"Why do you try so hard to make me give it up so easily?" Harry asked just as strongly as her.

Hermione stood up again. "Because Harry, you always do this. Even back in Hogwarts you were always like this. Always making it your main priority to protect everyone at all cost, even if it means giving up your own life, and then blaming yourself because your plans didn't go like you expected. It's only worse now because you have PTSD. This whole thing isn't even to protect people anymore – you have a personal vendetta with these criminals. You obviously won't let go of your past until they're locked up."

When she trailed off, she gave Harry a pleading stare, hoping that he would somehow react to her words through her eyes, that he would feel what she is trying to make known in her words. Her fears of him never coming back. Her nightmare of living in a world where Harry no longer exists in. Her worst torture of living and knowing he is dead. She wanted him to see that in her eyes. She needed him to understand just this once why she is against his career so much. As her mother had once told her; _He needs to learn to let go or he'll never grow_. And she agrees with her.

"Harry," Hermione started again, her voice grown softer. "I just don't want – I just don't want a repeat on what happened years ago. When…when you snuck past me – past Ron – I couldn't find you anywhere in the school. And when I did find you…you were being carried back by Hagrid."

Her words must have finally broken into his mind as she can see Harry's resolve crumble and a look of remorse and shame masked over his face. His eyes were now begging her to not shed a tear and she will not. She wanted him to see how determined she is to show him the amount of care she has for his safety, for his heart.

"You left without saying goodbye and I was brassed off by that," she continued. "But if you keep doing this…I'll be upset to find out that the last time I say goodbye I won't know it will be unless it's an Auror knocking on my door. And I don't want my last goodbye to be ended in bad terms. _Ever_."

Harry smiled charmingly. "Hermione, our last goodbye isn't coming anytime soon. I'm the Master of Death, remember? I think that-"

Hermione didn't allow him to finish; she had shot herself forward to fling her arms around his torso, dropping onto her knees in front of him yet again, and her face buried in his shoulder so he does not see the look of anguish she has on.

"Please understand," she whispered. "For everyone – for Teddy – for _me_. Try to imagine what I went through when I saw you on that bed – when I heard the Patronus say you were in the hospital. I didn't know what else to think except that you're a complete dolt. You looked so dead that I thought you were for a moment. Try to see how frightened I was. Harry, I never – _ever_ – want to experience something like that again. Next time you promise me something, you better keep it."

Above her, Harry was chuckling. She knew it was because of the brash of her voice – he always found it amusing for some unfathomable reason. Yet she is able to mottle out the strained sounds within his laughter. She can tell that her way towards him is beginning to take a better effect on him and she hoped it became permanent so he will always remember. She felt him slowly pull back and she leaned away to fully face the repentant smile he was sporting. It was little but it brought a big impact on her.

"I'm sorry for giving you hell," said Harry with such genuine honesty. "I didn't know it would hurt you that much."

"If you're trying to be funny, I can guarantee that you're failing," Hermione mumbled bitterly.

Harry laughed and shook his head. He brought one hand to the back and pushed her head back onto his shoulder, gently stroking her hair that made her sigh into his shirt. As he did, Hermione had taken a deep breath to his heavenly natural scent and she felt her mind drift away on a cloud. The scent never changed. After all these years, ever since she had taken a whiff of it in her sixth year, it still intrigued her senses by its gripping smell of old wood, pines, and mint shampoo. Even with the smell of his fresh wound scars still on him, she could still catch those distinctive smells.

"I can't quit my job – not now. But I'll promise to try to be more careful next time. If I don't then you can hex me, jinx me, or punch me all you want until you're satisfied." Harry ran one hand up her back from her hip and she tried not to shudder. "Does that sound fair enough?"

"It's an improvement," Hermione murmured. "Thank you." She kissed his cheek and held him tightly again as she basked in the feeling of comfort coming from his hand running over her back. This was the most peaceful moment she had gotten in a while.

"You're still a troublesome witch," Harry muttered. She laughed into his shirt.

"Good," she whispered softly.

"Mum-Ne? Papa?" a voice hesitantly called out from the doorway to the hallway. It was Teddy. She and Harry separated and Hermione stood up while Harry glanced back towards his godson.

"What's wrong?" he asked the young Metamorphmagus.

Teddy bit his lip. "Lily's school just rang."

"Is she alright?" Harry demanded frantically, hopping onto his feet and approaching his godson. Hermione followed him closely, equally worried.

"She got in a row," Teddy answered. "Not just her – Hugo, too. The headmaster tried to ring up Mum-Ne but nobody was home. You're their emergency contact."

"Why were they in a row?" Hermione asked whilst thinking hopefully, _Please don't be because of who I think it is_ …"

"They got tangled up with some lad named Jamie," Teddy said.

Hermione groaned and stomped her feet in irritation as she ran her hands through her hair.

Harry looked at her skeptically. "You know who this is?"

"Some bothersome little bugger who's been bullying Hugo nonstop because he's dyslexic. It's not the first time he's gotten Hugo into trouble. Because of him, Hugo's gotten detention. Now he's brought Lily into the mix," Hermione said darkly as she walked into the hallway to the foyer; Teddy and Harry followed her, getting his car keys from the hook along the way.

Harry turned to Teddy. "Tell Ginny I'll be back."

"But I'm going too!" Teddy protested. "Some little git is bothering my little gremlins. I deserve to be there as much as you do."

"I need someone here to let Ginny know where I'm at," said Harry. "I don't want her to think I gave you the slip."

Teddy rolled his eyes. "As if you could with me."

Hermione groaned loudly. "Will one of you just send her a bloody Patronus and get going! Honestly! Sometimes I think you two forget you're even wizards!"

Harry quickly did as she said, hearing the anger rising in her voice the more she talked, and casted his Patronus charm easily. A beautifully silver stag bursts out from the tip, the wisps whirling around it erratically, and it bounced from wall to wall rapidly, before it charged through a window.

Pleased, Hermione opened the front door and sped her way to the driveway, with Harry and Teddy following her tracks wordlessly. As she went around to climb into the passenger's side, she felt a horrible lurch in her stomach at the thought of Harry being in the school, knowing about Hugo's situation.

* * *

Harry had chosen to have the radio play music on the drive to the school, in order to keep emotions as bay from everyone and to distract themselves from their thoughts on what could possibly have happened to their children, but the songs were doing the opposite to Hermione. They were vulgar, meaningless, and the rhythm was the copy of any other song would hear in the morning station. She slammed the volume down to mute and looked out of the window in the meantime. No one tried to put any music after that.

Teddy was oddly quiet in the backseat. She could hear him patting his thighs and sighing once in a while. He never spoke a word. Beside her, Harry was obviously fidgeting; he'd tap his fingers on the steering wheel and have his eyes roam around the streets, glance at every face they pass by, and end up muttering something to himself that Hermione could not understand. She had offered to drive but he was stubborn and declined. She was really wishing that he had let her behind the wheel because his constant vigilance was making her nervous.

The afternoon was a clear gray mist as they drove. Hermione kept looking out of the window, looking at anything, mostly everything, that came into view. Buildings, people, and never-ending concrete streaked by. Teddy requested to put on music again and Hermione did not argue when Harry turned up the volume again. It was actually a nice song by Ed Sheeran. She only half-listened with her head against the glass as she watched the blur of striped multi-colored lights flash by. She was too concern about Hugo – about Lily – and she was blinded by the red of her anger towards Jamie.

Suddenly, a calloused hand had taken hers and she turned to see her fingers tangled with Harry's. She looked up to see him glancing up at her from the corner of his eye but never turning to her and a slight, encouraging smile was twitching on his lips. Unconsciously, she gave a squeeze to his hand, gazing at him fondly.

"You said it isn't the first time Hugo and this Jamie had problems?" he asked. "Isn't he that one lad with the mum I saw you talk to one time?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes. There wasn't been any problems since then – at least, from what I know of. Hugo lied to me one time saying that he and Jamie were friends now. Then I learned that they had a row because Jamie has been bullying him for being dyslexic. He was going to be expelled but Ron talked to the headmaster to give him detention instead. Everything seemed fine after that but now," she sighed. "I'm worried he'll get expelled this time. His detentions were warnings to not cause any problems again."

"But we don't know if he is the one who started it," Harry said. "If Jamie started it then Hugo can't get in trouble for self-defense. The punishment most appropriate this time will be suspension because he didn't listen to his warnings."

"And if he did?" asked Teddy, inviting himself in the conversation.

"That's what I'm worried about," Hermione said timidly. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as she breathed through her nose. "My son is going to make me have gray hair before I reach sixty, I swear."

"He isn't going to get expelled," Harry told her firmly. "Not if I got something to say about it."

Hermione stared at him. "Harry Potter, you better not be thinking of using magic on the headmaster!"

When Harry didn't answer, she was confirmed of her suspicions. He increased the acceleration of his car, almost being caught by a light turning red, and sped down the narrow street.

"Harry," Hermione growled. " _No_."

"So you want Hugo to get expelled? I surely don't want Lily to get in trouble."

"No but it's illegal."

"Just a quick False Memory Charm. It's not like I'm going to Obliviate them," Harry said. "It wouldn't be the first time I do this. You won't believe how many Muggles I had to Obliviate for the past years."

"One thing is to use it for emergency – this is for our own pleasure," Hermione retorted.

"I see it as an emergency," Harry said cheekily. "A child's education is important."

"He's right on that," Teddy added. Hermione glared back at him before she turned to Harry.

"No," she said. "It's against the law."

"But I am the law," Harry grinned.

Shaking her head, Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled her hand out of his and crossed her arms whilst she leaned back into her seat, looking out of window. She was trying to fight back a smile when he started to act cheeky. She could not explain it but he has an infectious effect on her to make her want to grin like him. He must know what he does to her because he always starts being playful to her whenever she tries to be serious and he would give her that lopsided grin that makes her want to just smile and forget about what she is scolding him for.

"How about this," Harry started. "If the punishment isn't bad for the kids then no magic. _But_ if it's unnecessary for what the problem is then I use magic. I cast the False Memory Charm on the headmaster – Hugo and Lily can go to school normally – I talk to Jamie's parents – everything goes back to the way it was. Except for the bullying, of course. Does that sound fair?"

Hermione sighed, "One problem is that you using magic will be reported. You may be the law for _criminals_ but the Ministry officials are in charge of everything else that goes on in the wizarding world. They will interrogate you and have you in court even if you are the Head Auror. My vote against your punishment will be useless compared to the other counselors. And I don't think you need any more coverage on your life than you already have."

Harry pursed his lips. Hermione reached for his hand this time, making him glance at her from the corner of his eye, and she gave him a small smile as she ran her thumb over his knuckles.

"Let's just hope for the best," she said. Her smile widen as Harry squeezed her hand. He agreed with her.

A few more miles, Harry had taken a turn onto a narrow road, a shortcut that he had found during the first few years of James' primary days, and they were already in the perimeter of the school. They drove up to the campus. Children were seen on the field playing sports and in the playground. Some were on their cellphones, probably posting on the popular social websites Hermione was glad that neither of her kids were interested in. The teacher's parking lot was full.

Harry parked next to a 2001 Aston Martin and cut off the engine in the guest parking lot. Hermione had opened her door before either Harry or Teddy could grip the handle; she slammed it shut behind her as she walked towards the front entrance, ignoring Harry's calls. Her mind was on Hugo – what happened to Hugo – what started this problem with Hugo – what could happen to Hugo. She was also worried about Lily. She was not expecting her niece to be part of what is occurring between her son and his bully. She never was before. When Teddy told her about Lily being in trouble, she was left numb in the mind and out of words.

The hallways of the school were filled with a few stragglers left behind, probably retaking a test or finishing homework, as Hermione, along with Harry and Teddy, briskly walked down the direction of the headmaster's office. Some of the students watched them strangely and would whisper. Others were too engrossed on their technology to notice their presence. The way to the office was not far away from the entrance – it was too close. When they turned a corner, they were met with a sight of a sulking Lily sitting on one of the chairs.

"Lily!" Harry called out as he increased his pace to approach his daughter faster.

Lily snapped her head up. "Daddy!"

Harry's eyes widen when he got close. "What happened to you?"

Hermione dropped her mouth open once she was near as Harry kneeled in front of his ginger hair daughter and gently cupped her face, turning it to different angles to inspect the damages marked on her face; she had a broken lip and a slightly swollen nose. It looked like it was broken.

"Who did this to you?" Harry demanded angrily. "Did Jamie do this to you? Did he hit you?"

"Not intentionally," Lily answered timidly. "At least, I think so."

"What do you mean? What did he do?" Teddy questioned strongly, his tone matching the hardness of Harry's. "You gotta tell us, little leprechaun," he added.

Lily looked down at her folded hands on her lap. "Jamie cornered me and was making fun of my hair with his friends. Someone saw and told Hugo. He came by to defend me but it ended up with him and Jamie having a row. I got in the middle of it to break them off and Jamie had punched me in the mix. I don't know if he saw me but…it really hurt."

Harry growled. " _Where. Is. He?_ "

"He's inside with the headmaster and Hugo," Lily answered. "I already told them my story but some of Jamie's chums told a different one saying that Hugo started it all because he saw Jamie talking to me and he didn't want him near me. That one part is true but Hugo didn't start it, I swear. He doesn't just start problems for no reason."

"It's okay, we believe you," said Teddy sincerely. "What did the headmaster say to you?"

"I got a warning because it's my first time," Lily answered. She turned to Hermione sadly. "I don't know what's happening to Hugo, Auntie. I'm scared for him. Jamie's chums are lying. I tried everything I could do to make Headmaster Chippington to believe me, but the boys – they -"

"I know they're lying, Lily Bear," Hermione said. "Don't worry, I believe you."

Just then, the door of the office squeaked open and two young boys trudged out separately, glaring at each other full of hatred and blazing rage, and they were followed by the stern-looking headmaster. Three other boys were coming out afterwards with smug smirks towards Hugo which was quickly wiped out of their faces when they saw Harry, Hermione, and Teddy staring at them angrily and the headmaster faced them. Hermione's glare soften when she saw that her son has a black eye and a bruised cheek.

"You two can go back to break now but I will call your parents for a conference," Neil said. The three boys nodded respectively before they sprinted down the hall where the adults came from. The man then noticed them and said, "Mr. Potter and Mrs. Weasley – I was hoping you'd come sooner."

The man held out a kind hand to Harry, who seemed to be debating to accept it or not. He was glaring down at a sheepish looking Jamie. Hermione thinks he does not realize the headmaster had even offered him a shake; she took the hand and gave him a quick shake to distract him from Harry's obvious display of dislike towards the young boy as Teddy gave his godfather a few pats to the back.

"Mr. Chippington," said Hermione. "I'm sure whatever happened it is, Hugo didn't mean for it to happen."

"I'm afraid I can't allow it to slide this time, miss," Neil retorted. "I gave him a warning the first time and then I agreed with your husband to give him detention as a second chance – that was after all the other disruptions he caused. But this time, it was more than just a squabble between two young lads."

"But it wasn't his fault!" cried Lily. "It was Jamie! He's always causing problems for Hugo because he'd dyslexic!"

"And why hasn't he reported in these problems to me?" Neil turned back to Hermione. "I'm sorry to say this but I can't have any more turmoil like this in my school. Such things can cause problems to other students if parents hear that rows like this cannot be handled. I will have to expel Hugo this time."

"You can't," Hermione shot back. "If you care about the students so much then take away the problem not what is trying to stop it. Your school has a horrible bullying rate and you don't seem to put that much attention to it as you can see. My son is being constantly bullied by this lad almost daily and he has to pay the consequences because he's trying to defend himself like any other sane person would. And now he's brought my niece into this whole mess."

"My daughter," added Harry.

"I understand your concern-"

"Clearly you don't," Hermione interrupted. "If you did then Hugo wouldn't be the one who gets all the warnings – the detentions – or any other form of punishment."

"He defended himself in violence instead of coming to me directly and discuss about the problem," Neil pointed out. "He chose to act on the situation on his own instead of coming to an adult about it."

"My husband came here once for the conference you asked for," Hermione remarked. "Technically, Hugo did speak about it to an adult and you were coming with the conclusion to expel Hugo instead of handling the situation. Taking a child out of the school isn't the way to end things, especially when that child is the one who is being terrorized."

"And not just that but he hurt my daughter," Harry said. "It's more than a coincidence that the next person to be in the same problem as him is related to Hugo." He pointed at Jamie. "He should be the one expelled. Lily or Hugo deserve no form of punishment."

"But it's like Mrs. Weasley said – taking a child out of the school is not a conclusion," Neil retorted.

"Therefore you shouldn't expel Hugo," Harry said cheekily; Hermione gazed at him admiringly, loving to see his devotion to prove his daughter's innocence as well as her son's.

Neil narrowed his eyes. "I have witnesses of what happened."

"You mean Jamie's mates?" Teddy laughed sardonically, rolling his eyes. "That's not even evidence – that's support! I bet Lily's side of the story is more believable than the rubbish they used to cover his arse!"

Before either could respond, a man with faded gray hair, in his late forties, approached the group frenziedly, panting lightly, and he glanced at the many eyes that turned to him on his presence until his eyes settled on Jamie. He casually walked up to Neil and held out his hand politely.

"Hey Neil," he said gruffly as they shook hands. "I tried getting here sooner but I had a few complications at work."

"It's alright, Will," Neil nodded.

"I'm sure it's nothing too serious as usual," Will said. "Jamie has a tendency of playing rough."

Hermione widen his eyes incredulously. "Playing rough? Are you absolutely serious?"

Will turned to her, uninterested. "I'm sorry and you are?"

"I'm the mother of the boy your son _'roughly played_ ' with," Hermione answered fiercely. "The same boy who your son gave a black eye too."

"And I'm the father of the daughter he just hurt," Harry added just as ferociously.

"I'm sure it was an accident," Will shrugged nonchalantly. "Kids get hurt all the time when they play around. Don't you remember how you used to play when you were a lad?"

"Trust me, the way I used to play is nowhere close," Harry said through gritted teeth. He made an effort to step forward but Teddy held him back by the shoulders.

"Anyway," Will turns to Neil and gave him an appreciative smile. "Thanks for ringing me up."

Neil nodded. Will then took Jamie's hand and dragged him from behind as he pushed their way through the disbelief group. Hermione, with suspicious eyes, turned to the headmaster while Harry and Teddy glared after Will and Jamie.

"And what's his punishment?" she demanded.

"He gets a month's detention," Neil responded normally.

The three adults gaped in disbelief while Hugo glared at his feet and Lily started to cry silently as she sat back down on the seat. They stared at Neil for a moment, absorbing in the piece of shocking and unbelievable information, before they started to shout out their anger.

"That's unfair!" Teddy protested.

"You've gotten mental!" Harry roared.

"You have to be the most deranged man I've ever met!" Hermione shrieked. "I never knew someone so immoral, so inequitable, and so shameful could even exist! And I've met far more worse beings than you for years! I swear you have no heart if it's easier for you to do this to my-" Hermione then gasped when realization dawned to her and then the glare she has been bearing had intensified. "You're related to Jamie, aren't you?"

Neil did not respond. Harry and Teddy are now staring at him pointedly. Lily had stopped crying when she heard Hermione's conclusion and Hugo was shaking his head skeptically. Hermione's vision became red the longer the silence lasted and she, without thinking properly, was about to whip out her wand but it seemed Harry also had the same thought as him. He broke away from Teddy's grasp and drew his wand at Neil, who was now staring at him befuddled yet entertained.

"Is this some sort of joke?" he asked humorously.

Harry glowered. " _Re-_ "

" _Reponere!_ "

Hermione had taken out her wand before Harry could finish the spell; they watched as Neil's eyes became a smoky white color and he held a blank face. Hermione continued holding out her wand towards him, holding the spell as she focused on replacing the current events with false ones she is coming up with in the second, and once she was satisfied she released the spell then pocketed her wand quickly before the color of his eyes dissipated. Neil blinked his eyes and shook his head.

"Sir?" Hermione asked politely.

Neil looked up at her normally. "Is everything we agreed on alright?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "I can assure you this won't happen again. Thank you for your time."

"Mrs. Weasley," Neil turned to Harry with a kind smile. "Mr. Potter. Have a nice day."

Harry nodded numbly, dumfounded. Neil gave them all another smile before he turned and entered his office without another word. Lily hopped out of her seat to hug Hugo tightly and sobbed into his shoulder while he stared at his mother notably. Teddy went to comfort the young children as Harry stood there next to Hermione, gawking at her with an expression she could not fathom. It seemed like a mixture of adoration and amazement. She smiled sheepishly at him and ran a hand through her hair.

"What happened to _'no magic'_?" he asked, raising a brow.

Hermione blushed. "The punishment was unreasonable. I wasn't going to let my son get expelled for his selfish reasons. No wonder that Jamie lad is able to get away from all the drama he's been causing. I should have made him think he resigned and have him move to Puerto Rico. He wouldn't last two seconds in there."

"A bit too enthusiastic there," Harry chuckled. Then he formed a worried look. "But aren't you worried that you'll get reported?"

"The letter is probably at my house by now," Hermione sighed. "I'll talk to the Improper Use of Magic Department tomorrow. It's not the first time I used this charm on Muggles. They overlooked the time I did it on my parents. Also, I'm a Ministry official. It's rare for a counselor to get in court for breaking a law."

"What did you change?" asked Teddy.

"Instead of expelling Hugo, he'll change Jamie out of any class he has with him and put him on a lower studies level. I also made sure neither of the kids got any punishment. He'll see them as victims of bullying and Jamie's chums will get the suspension they deserve for getting involved," Hermione explained.

"You wicked, wicked witch," Teddy grinned widely.

"Let me know when you're going to talk to the department so I can be there and explain my side of the story as a witness," Harry quickly insisted.

Hermione smiled. "Thanks Harry." She gave him a quick squeeze on his hand to emphasize her gratitude before she walked over to her son. "Are you alright, sweetie?"

Hugo, seeing his mother over Teddy's shoulder, had rapidly tied his arms around her waist and started to shout out apologies to her into her shirt. One could hardly understand what he was saying as he buried his face, his red locks concealing his eyes from the watchful eyes. Hermione could feel him her shirt become wet as his tears seeped through the fabric.

"Hey," said Hermione as she pulled her son back, revealing a dark spot at the front of her shirt, and she tilted his head up by the chin. "Dry your tears."

Hugo obeyed as he rubbed his hands over his moist eyes and cheeks, quietly sniffling. He used his sleeve to wipe away the snot dripping from his nose and then snorted to clear his nostrils while he stared up at Hermione with glassy eyes.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Shh," Hermione said. "It's not your fault. None of it. You were protecting your cousin. Your father would have done the same if it was me or Harry or Ginny."

Hugo frowned. "But now you're in trouble because I was acting like a masochist."

"I would have gotten in trouble in any way," Hermione shrugged. "It comes to being best friends with your uncle. He always attracts it like a magnet."

"Wait, I didn't even do anything!" protested Harry.

Hermione ignored him and continued, "I'm just glad you're okay…in a way. Here – let me see your eye."

"Careful, it's still tender," Hugo warned.

Hermione's lips twitched. She lowered herself to his height and gently held him by the chin as she inspected the damage of his black eye. It was a reddish color and completely swollen that Hugo needed to keep the eye unintentionally shut. She grimaced. The boy must have gotten a clear aim to have caused a horrid bruise on her son so well. But she was glad to see that Hugo had gotten some good shots on Jamie as well because she saw the scrapes and bruises across the boy's son as soon as she saw him. She lightly pressed her fingers on the bruise, making Hugo hiss a little, and then she whispered, " _Curationum_ " making the wound to fade away.

"Better?" she asked as Hugo tentatively touched his newly healed eye.

Hugo beamed. "Very much. Thanks mum."

Hermione kissed him on the forehead and stroked his hair. From the corner of her eye, she can see Harry also kneeling in front of Lily with his wand out and patting her head. She turned to him as he kissed her lightly on her broken nose and caressed her cheek. She smiled at the scene; she always knew Harry would be an excellent father. She remembered when he confessed his fears in failing as a role model to his kids when Ginny was pregnant and she had to continuously repeat her words until he believed in them. She never met Harry so nervous over another human being, and a rather small one in fact, yet she understood them when she got pregnant with Rose. One did not know if they should have been happy or afraid to have the responsibility to raise the life of another in their hands. It was indescribable

"It will only hurt a bit," Harry said reassuringly.

Lily squeaked and covered her nose with her hands as she shook her head no. She had a glint of fear in her eyes. She was scared to get hurt.

"I promise it will only last a second," Harry told her with an easy smile.

"It's not as bad as you think, little leprechaun," Teddy added comfortingly. "Papa always used it on me whenever I broke an arm or a leg and you'll hardly feel the pain. That's how fast it is."

Lily still seemed unconvinced as she slowly peeled her hands away from her nose and she bit her lip whilst she shut her eyes tightly, anticipating what is expected to come. Harry seemed hesitant and Hermione knew why. He did not like being the one to make the reason why she was so scared. But a part of her was cautious; she did not want to think that Lily's reaction would cause him to act like he did to her back at the house. She went over to him to place a hand on his shoulder, realizing that the muscles there were too tense under her fingers, and when she gave it a squeeze, it instantly melted into soft skin.

Harry pointed his wand at Lily's nose and said, " _Episkey_."

Lily's cry lasted for a millisecond before Harry pulled her into a tight hug, holding her head against his chest to muffle out the whimpers and sobbing, as he hushed her quietly, whispering words of comfort and encouragement into her ear.

"It hurts – it hurts – IT HURTS!" Lily screamed in his shirt.

"It'll be gone," Harry whispered. "It's just healing your nose."

Lily's cries did not subside as she kept weeping. Harry then lifted her in his arms, letting her bury her face in his shoulder, and he gently rocked her. Hermione stood behind them, bathing in the sight of a concern father showering his love for his daughter to cure her of her physical pain, and she smiled softly as Harry began to plant butterfly kisses on Lily's head and rub her back. She knew Harry for years and he hardly ever showed his emotions so openly, especially when it involves something hurting people he loves or him experiencing love for another, because he was still socially awkward when it comes to feelings. But over the years, after the war, he was able to express himself better than before and when he got his firstborn, he was wearing his heart on his sleeve the moment he held baby James. She savored to see that heart of his.

"Let's go home," she said once Lily's noises have quiet down.

Hugo looked up at her dreadfully. "What about school?"

"Do you have an important exam or have any assignments to turn in?" Hermione asked.

"No," Hugo answered honestly. "But Mr. Howard is going to teach us how to make non-flammable objects today in chemistry."

"If you come with us, I could teach your kids how to do the Blueball Flames," Harry suggested. "I'll even show you how to put it in a jar."

Lily's head snapped up from his shoulder, beaming brightly. "I want to know!"

"That was fast," Teddy muttered.

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. She felt her arm being tugged at by her hand and she saw Hugo was trying to drag her with him.

"Eager to go home now?" she asked.

"I wanna do the Blueball Flames!" said Hugo excitedly. "I wanna be able to know how to do it before I go to Hogwarts and show it to everyone in my first year! Do you know how amazing that would be? I bet Rose would go mad to see me do magic too advance for me and she never got to be able to do yet."

Hermione chuckled. She allowed Hugo to drag her down the hallway as he excitedly talked about how much spells and charms he is determined to perfect once he goes into Hogwarts and how he is planning to practice on the more high-level spells so he could be ahead of his year. Lily had wiggled out of Harry's grasp to walk beside her cousin and join the conversation, adding her hopes in being able to ace her flying lessons on the first day like her father did. Teddy had also matched their pace and had wrapped an arm around Hermione while he listened to the kid's animated conversation and putting his opinion once in a while.

Hermione peered over at Harry only to be a little startled to spot him, for half a second, staring at her with such an unknown look in his eyes before he turned and look ahead. She could have sworn she saw a look of devotion and desire shining in his eyes when she looked at him. She did not hallucinate what she saw – at least, she hoped she didn't – but the feelings she got from his eyes were the same she got before when she was in love with Ron and she would see in her eyes in a mirror if she ever thought of Ron. She can recognize those two feelings easily but she never really got it coming from Harry and that leaves her baffled.

As they made their way out of the building, Hermione was the first to notice that Harry had stopped walking. She slipped under Teddy's arm, making him to also halt with the children then look back at her, as she watched Harry scan the open campus entrance, seeing that he has a look of determination in his gaze.

"Harry? What's wrong?" she called tentatively as she stepped closer to him. He did not respond to her; his face had morphed into a seething scowl. She followed his gaze from across the yard, quickly roaming through the small crowd of spreading students and parents approaching to pick up their child, until she finally caught sight that captured Harry's interest; in the guest parking lot, the father of Jamie, Will, was leaning against the side of his car taking a deep drag of his cigar while his son was sprinting through the gaps of the parked cars with a toy car in hand. Hermione had to stifle a gasp when she saw Jamie run his toy over the hood of Harry's car.

"I need to take care of something," Harry growled as he started to move forward but Hermione held him by the arm and turned him to her.

"Don't you dare," Hermione said. "We already got the kids out of trouble and fixed the problem. There's no need to cause another dispute over this."

"I just want to make sure another one doesn't happen in the future," Harry told her. "He hurt Hugo more than once and now he hurt Lily in the process. Just because you were able to trick the headmaster from expelling either of them or to switch Jamie out of Hugo's classes, doesn't mean that he won't stop trying to harass them."

"But you harassing them will send you to jail," Hermione pointed out.

"As if they could arrest a wizard," Harry said mockingly with a cheek grin before he pulled his arm from Hermione's hand and took long strides towards the guest parking lot.

"Harry! _Harry!_ "

But the raven-haired wizard had ignored and kept walking towards the parking lot. Hermione groaned inwardly, aggravated at his stubbornness to not listening to reason and wondering at the same time if it was part to a guy's pride to have something physical every minute of their life. She turned to Teddy, glanced back to Harry who was already entering the parking lot, and then back at her subordinate son with pleading eyes.

"Watch the kids for me," she said and she started to follow Harry's trail without giving Teddy a chance to respond. She can hear the kids calling after her and loudly asking Teddy what was happening but she was more focused on keeping Harry from getting into any deeper trouble.

When she got closer to Harry and Will at the parking lot, she can see by the annoyed expression on the gray man's face and the fearful stare from Jamie that the discussion between him and Harry was going south quick. She increased her pace, a flow of uneasiness overflowed within her as their voices rose to higher volumes, and then, after she breaks out of her momentary shock, she bursts out into a sprint when Harry suddenly grabbed Will's wrist, twisted it effortlessly behind his back, and then slammed his face into the hood of his car. The cigar he was holding had slipped and rolled across the pavement.

" _Harry!_ " Hermione screeched; she can see other families and groups of students had stopped to watch the situation. Some of them had taken out their iPhones to record. She can even hear Lily screaming for her father no too far away as well as Teddy. She was beyond scared now for Harry. She remembered Ron telling her that when he was helping to break out the fight from the bar they were in that Ron ended up being the one pulling Harry off the man because he did not seem like he was in control of his own mind. She does not want Harry to have to go through the phase in front of another large crowd of people, especially during daytime and in a place where there are also security. She does not think she can go away for Obliviating an entire campus despite her position in the Ministry.

However, when she was close enough to grab him, she had skidded into an abrupt stop as she listened to the words Harry was hissing into the squirming man's ear. She knew it was foolish of her to just stand there, knowing that something in Harry might have been triggered to have him act so rash, but hearing what he is saying left her less worried of his mental condition.

" _If I ever find out that my daughter or my nephew are lying to hide any more bruises or problems caused by your son and that your mate of a headmaster is covering it up again, I will find you and make your life a living hell,_ " seethed Harry. " _Whatever you work in – I'll shut it down. Whatever university you want your son to attend – it will be gone before he even makes it to secondary school. No matter how healthy your marriage is with your wife – I will show her reasons to leave you without a second thought. Everything in your name will be gone. Do you understand me?_ "

Will whimpered cowardly and wordlessly nodded.

" _Another thing, you slimy git_ ," Harry continued. " _If I ever – EVER – see you look at Hermione like that again the next time you're in the same spot, well, if you think I'm terrifying alone then imagine me with my brother. Her husband. Understood?_ "

"Completely!" Will grunted painfully when Harry tightened his hold on the twisted arm.

Hermione chose to intervene at this moment and went to grab Harry's arm, pulling it. "Harry, that's enough!" she whispered to him. "You're already forming a crowd. We need to get going before someone decides to bring in security. Let's just go home with the kids and Teddy."

Harry held Will a minute longer before he released him. Will flexed his wrist whilst he winced in pain. He glanced at Harry quickly before he told his son to get in the car and went around to climb in the driver's side. After he was in, the engine roared to life, and the tires squealed in protest as the car zoomed out of the parking lot.

"You're mental," Hermione said once the car was gone. She was glaring at him disapprovingly, although it was a bit weak. She cannot deny that she was admiring him for his intentions but the actions he took for them were unnecessary.

"At least we are sure that his son won't bother either of the kids again," Harry pointed out. "You could at least say thank you for that."

Hermione sighed. "That is true. But you need to stop solving things with violence and brute force. One of these days, karma is going to come back with it." She smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry scratched his head. "You confuse me sometimes. I never know if you're lecturing me or praising me."

Hermione rolled her eyes amusingly while fighting back the smile that was trying to creep on her face. She will never know how Harry is able to make light jokes during or in the aftermath of a conflict. She supposes that his years with Ginny had helped him amplify his humor with her light heart and mellow attitude. She had smoothed out the rough edges he had for years and Hermione couldn't be more thankful for that. She knew she did not have what Harry needed to break down his barriers but Ginny did.

Feet scattering across the pavement were heard approaching them; Teddy was dragging Hugo and Lily by the hands as he led them towards her and Harry.

"What happened?" Teddy asked breathlessly as he lets go of the kid's hands.

"Nothing important," Harry answered with a shrug. "Just had a nice little talk. You know wizard to Muggle. The usual."

"Yes - because a wizard threatening a Muggle is known to be commonly usual these days," Hermione said sarcastically. She earned a light shove to the side from Harry that nearly made her tumble over and she laughed as she gave him a teasing glower.

"For a second, I thought you were going rip his arm off," Teddy retorted lightly.

"I was tempted to," muttered Harry, earning a returning shove from Hermione.

"Can we all just go home before we end up in another unnecessary confrontation?" Hermione insisted. "Handling Muggle and wizard authority at the same time is something I don't want to experience the first time. The papers would have the pleasure to print out our names again."

"Are those the people from that newspaper you and dad ripped apart one time?" Hugo asked innocently as he and the group started to walk towards Harry's matte black Wolseley.

"Yes," Harry responded.

"I don't like those people," Lily grumbled, making the others to laugh.

As Hermione watched her family tittering and speaking diligently about the most odd topics they come up with, she cannot help but notice how comfortable and easy it is to be around with her kids, her adopted son, and her best friend. The way how she sees Hugo latched onto Harry's back while he held Lily's hand and talking to Teddy, she felt drawn to the simplicity about the four. And then when Harry offered her his arm, she felt in place as she accepted. She took in the moment to her heart, feeling it burn up in tenderness as she understood the reason behind her content behavior.

They were acting like a family. They were all trapped in a space concealing them away from their reality and they were each other's miracle. Hugo was still between her and Ron but Harry is treating him like he does to James and Albus, and Lily is still between him and Ginny but she is loving her like she loves Rose. Teddy is practically their first child that they had raised together in their spare time on their own terms. This is the picture of what could have been like if they had chosen a different direction in their past – if she had chosen to be with Harry from the beginning instead of following her feelings towards Ron. Hugo would be Harry's son, sharing her brown hair and his enticing green eyes, and Lily with Harry's dark hair and her chocolate eyes in another world. She wouldn't change them for that world but imagining them as their very own was tremendous.

But that world does not exist because of her choice to let go of Harry for the sake of all their friendships and allow herself to fall deeper in love with Ron.

She does not regret her choice but she wondered what would have happened if she got together with Harry.

* * *

The ride back to Godric's Hallow was a road of endless talking between the kids and Teddy about the different speed of a Muggle car and a pro broomstick. Sometimes Harry would go along with the conversation, much to Hermione's amusement because he would get a bit competitive as to why broomsticks dominate automobiles like he does when he's watching a Quidditch match with Ron, and Hermione would have to point out a red light or stop sign to him, eventually leading her to scolding him for lack of attention on the road.

Hermione was relieved to see the Potter cottage in sight. She was until she saw a few figures standing at the doorway and she was a bit sheepish to see two familiar ginger heads among the small group. The other was a recognizable blonde and two young identical swarthy boys standing close to her, crawling across the grass. They were probably searching for another anthill or a beetle again. As they turned onto the parkway, Hermione knew she was already spotted through the glass because Ginny had a merry smile on her face until she locked eyes with her and her mood instantly went sour. Hermione hoped that Harry did not notice how tense the atmosphere turned or anything odd about Ginny's behavior with her presence as they all climbed out of the car.

"Hi mum!" Lily said loudly as she skipped towards them with Hugo beside her. She quickly leapt into Ginny's awaiting arms; Hermione was able to breathe normally when Ginny broke her gaze to hug her daughter.

"What happened to your lip?" Ron asked shockingly, catching sight of the small cut on her lip.

Lily hid her mouth shamefully and looked away from her mother. Ginny turned her face back to her then gasped and turned to Harry.

"What happened?" she demanded.

Harry explained every from the moment Teddy got the phone call – to the time they confronted the headmaster about the problem – to when Hermione used a spell on said headmaster to erase any future possible conflicts between the kids and Jamie – and to the time Harry had furthered the chances by facing Jamie's father.

"Blimey, mate," awed Ron. "A little bit more and you would have an arm as a souvenir."

Grinning, Harry scratched his head. "I wouldn't have minded. But Hermione intervened."

"So that explains why that owl came by today. I thought it was some sort of prank or something," Ron said. He reached inside the pocket of his jean and pulled out a red envelope that was now steaming. It has the symbol of the Ministry stamped in wax. "You got a howler."

"Joy," Hermione said sarcastically as she took the letter to open it and let it float out of her hands, cringing lightly at the sound of crumbling paper while it transformed into a hovering mouth. She prepared herself for the impact as the paper opened its mouth and then –

" _Dear Miss Granger!_ " Hermioen recognized the voice to belong to Susie Dritto, the Head of the Improper Use of Magic. " _The Ministry has received reports that at 1:49 this afternoon, you performed the False Memory Charm on a Muggle. Due to clear violation to Clause 73 of the International Statute of Secrecy, you will be expected at the Wizengamot for your hearing at 7:00 am this Friday. Have a pleasant day."_

The letter bursts into flames and fluttered to the ground in ashes. Hermione glanced around; Ron looked troubled – Luna held concern through her dreamy eyes – the kids have stopped playing to stare at her strangely – Harry was silent in fear – and Ginny actually looked scared for her life. She did not let their stares phase her as she briskly opened the door and entered the house, nimbly walking towards the living room area.

The others have soon followed her, and Ron, with a look of curiosity and terror, said, "What did you do? Using magic on a Muggle? That's unlike you in so many ways."

"I had good reason," Hermione mumbled.

"And what's the reason?" asked Ginny, looking too awkward to know what to do with herself.

"The kids," Hermione answered simply. She dropped herself onto the sofa and crossed her arms, not attempting to speak another word. Hugo came to her to sit beside her and lean his head against her arm. She used her free hand to stroke his hair motherly. Lily was sitting on the floor in front of her, legs crossed with a cushion covering her lap, staring up at her nervously, and the twins were playing with the tips of her pigtails.

Seeing that she was showing signs of not talking any further, Harry took over, "Hermione somehow found out that the headmaster was related to Jamie and that's how the little bugger was able to get away from bullying the kids. He was going to expel Hugo this time and give Jamie a month's detention. Hermione – I guess she had the same thing in mind as me – casted the False Memory Charm on the headmaster so he wouldn't."

"That bloody git!" Ron said, his jaw clenched. "If I ever catch him one of these days, I'll hex the bastard myself!"

"It doesn't matter anymore, Ron," Hermione retorted. "It's been taken care of."

"Also, I'm sure that Hugo doesn't need both of his parents to go to court for using magic on a Muggle," Luna added. "Hermione doesn't have much to worry about either. Ministry officials mostly get away from these sorts of things for about ninety-two percent of the time. It is depending on what their position is. And since Hermione is Deputy Head of the Law Enforcement, Counselor of the Wizengamot, and Head of the RCMD, I don't think she has so much to worry about."

Hermione glanced down her arm and smiled tenderly; Hugo had fallen asleep. The fight with Jamie must have taken a lot of energy out of him.

"And if they don't take that to account? So you're just going to take the punishment like that?" Ginny inquired.

"She won't because I'll be there," Harry insisted. "I was a witness of the whole thing so I'm automatically required to be there. I'm sure they'll get a report of that soon and my letter will come later. I kind of owe it to Hermione in a way – I was going to do the same thing."

Ginny pursed her lips and nodded. Hermione did not miss the cautious glance Ginny did between her and Harry.

"What if you're guilty?" Lily asked timidly. "Won't you get sacked?"

"This isn't my first time getting a hearing from the Wizengamot – I can't explain how many times they called me in before I started working at the Ministry," Hermione chuckled. "This may be my third time so I think they might have me doing community service after my case and have either Julie or Gerald in charge of future cases."

"That's not so bad," Luna said.

"It's either that or Azkaban," Hermione shrugged. "But that's only if you used an Unforgivable Curse on a Muggle or on another wizard. Seeing as mine was harmless, I'm going to have community service."

"You should have just let me do it," Harry said gruffly.

"You would have gotten in trouble, Harry. You would be using magic for your own pleasure instead of your work. The many times you Obliviated Muggles was because you did it while you were in duty – not off the clock. The time Arthur Obliviated those Muggles at the pub you guys went to last night was to keep our secret safe. You would have gotten into even worse trouble," Hermione explained. "Besides, the wizarding world needs you to track down those criminals, remember? There are plenty of people in my department qualified for the Death Trials until I'm done with my service."

"But I don't want you to do any service, Auntie," Lily said.

Hermione smiled. "It's alright, Lily Bear. I never said it's certain. They'll probably give me a warning."

Ron sat down next to her and took her free hand. Hermione was not sure if she imagined it but she saw Harry frowned deeply, his face stoned from all emotions, when Ron did this and quickly turned towards Lily, kneeling next to her, to hide his distinctly unhappiness. Hesitantly, slowly, she slipped her hand away and laid it on her thigh, feeling oddly responsible for Harry to seem so sad.

As everyone talked about the events in the school, their jobs, and discussing about what costumes the children should wear for Halloween this year, Hermione caught a glimpse to the change in Harry's mood; Ginny was now sitting next to him by the kids, talking to Luna, and he was in a deep conversation with Ron about the sales in his shop going to higher heights for the fright holiday, but every once in a while, he would glance at her with a shine in his eyes that made her feel light in the head and weak in the knees.

He was beaming at her through his eyes. She did not want to feed on her ego but the thought of her being the cause behind it made her bubbling in happiness.

He was happy.

* * *

Hermione sat on a chair in the back porch watching Lily and Hugo diving across the air with each twin sitting behind them, passing by the quaffle as they did maneuvers that she considered dangerous. Teddy was hovering in the sky too as a referee for them. The sun was already setting, changing the sky into a burnt orange glow, and giving the leaves of the single tree a more bluish color. There were birds soaring across the blinding shine of the sleepy sun, returning to their nest and to rest for the day.

The others were inside preparing the dinner for the day; Ron's delicious stotty cake with Ploughman's lunch along with Harry's pork pies and Ginny's berry trifle. Luna was making a batch of her sweet elfwine from scratch. It doesn't take long so it would be ready by the time dinner is. Hermione had volunteered to watch over the kids the moment she heard them mention about bringing out their broomsticks even though it was necessary because Teddy was up there with them. But she can see that she was not needed in the kitchen – she just wanted to escape from glances she is getting from between Harry and Ginny.

Hermione was thinking about bringing out Lily's old toy brooms so the twins could enjoy the feeling of rushing air and be able to enjoy the sensation of free movement when she heard heavy footsteps behind her. A minute later, a hand was holding a glass of rich purple win in front of her face. She followed the arm up until she was looking at her husband's face. Her heart stopped and she suppress the urge to release a gasp at the sense of distraught and perturbed vibes coming from him, completely different to how he felt inside the house an hour ago. She could feel he was mentally bothered – she has been with him for so long that she knew his soul and heart very well like keys to a piano playing a melodic lullaby. Yet he looked calm, in peace of mind, so stoned like a statue.

"Cheers," she said, taking the glass. "From Luna's batch?"

Ron sat on the wooden chair next to her. "She did a separate one for you. This one is mildly sweet. She knows how you can't handle the regular so much."

"I'll have to thank her for that," Hermione said before taking a swing.

As she watched Ron take a gulp of his own, she could not tell which was certain but she did notice that she did not feel the taste of tranquility from him like she normally does. She can sense negativity from him such as dolefulness, angst, dejection, and misery. That was all that filled the shrinking distance between them. It was awful to just be surrounded by terrible emotions after so many years they have spent together fulfilling their days with irreplaceable memories, unquestionable actions, and blessing miracles they have vowed to cherish through the worst to their last breath on this earth. There was no sweetness about this, just wholly bitter.

They became remarkably silent, sipping their beverage and watching Teddy control the crazed flight of the children. The sky drained of color and turned into a faint shade of grey. Ron and Hermione used their wands to produce their Patronuses and let them glide over the sky to light the field for the kids. Teddy had also created his. Neither of them minded as they were now flying around with the otter, the Jack Russell Terrier, and the wolf.

"So what did that little git do this time?" Ron asked, attempting to break the pressure over them.

"He was harassing Lily because of her hair. Ginny must have made her have those pigtails shockingly since Harry doesn't know how to control his own hair for his life," she chuckled dryly, though it did not reach her eyes. "Someone – I think it was a classmate of theirs – told Hugo about it. He went and confronted Jamie to Lily's defense. The rest is history."

"Nice to know he's like his old man," Ron grinned.

"Acting without thinking? Yes, he is certainly a lot like his father," Hermione smirked at the eye-roll Ron was doing. She nibbled on her lower lips as she brushed back a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Hermione, I need to ask you something," Ron said.

"What is it?"

"I've been meaning to ask you this for a while," Ron paused for a moment to exhale slowly. "But…are you happy?"

Hermione blinked, speechless. Was everybody going to ask her this now? Her mother was the first to point out her lack of delight in her marriage with Ron. Then later Gerald was the one to ask her about her feelings about her life. Now Ron was the third. Hermione lowered her head a bit as she combed her hair back again and scratched her neck as she thought about his question; was she happy? What was he referring to her being happy about? With the situation of Hugo finally being solved? She was certainly happy about that. But she doubted he was talking about that. Any parent would be proud of that. Was he asking her if she is happy with him? Why would he ask her that?

"I'm not sure what you mean by that," she confessed. "You're going to have to be more specific on what you're asking."

"Alright," Ron murmured, shaking his head to flip his hair away from his eyes before he peered at his wife, his eyes exposed of his raw emotions. "I mean that are you happy with us? With our marriage?"

Hermione knitted her brows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just…Hermione…I'm not happy," Ron sighed; Hermione's eyes widen. "I was planning to talk to you about it today but then you told me about Hugo and I wasn't sure if I should mention it after that. But I didn't want to keep it in anymore – I've been thinking about it for a long time. What I mean is that we don't really react to each other as we used to. We haven't rowed in a while but we spent most of the time doing that. It's normal for us to do that but before we'd do it when we try to come up with a solution for the better and nowadays we'd row of the things we've done wrong. Now we don't but we don't act like we used to. A couple of laughs here and there but it's not the same. It feels like all for show."

Hermione has lost her voice as she took in his words. She could not believe what she was hearing yet she could not find it in her to feel sadden by this. This moment felt expectant but the way it came was not. A part of her, though she hoped it never happened, knew that someday she would be the one to confess to Ron about her not having feelings for him, despite her saying she would keep it hidden. For her to see Ron to be the one to come forward about what he has been feeling made her baffled.

"I was going to tell you about this before but then you started to come home often – you talked to Rose to make things better between you two – and you started to be around Hugo a lot more," Ron continued. "I thought that at first, I was feeling different because of before – you being focused on your job more and not being at home all the time. But when everything started to change, I felt the same so I knew it wasn't that. I'm just not…happy anymore. With anything. And it's not you, it's-"

"This life," Hermione finished.

"This life," Ron echoed with a sigh. "It's more than that. You see, I've been in contact with Luna since you've been promoted head of the Law Enforcement. At first, I had it to be able to make up playdates for the kids or a small get together for all of us. But the past month, some things changed. I don't know how to explain it, Hermione, but I don't think I…love you anymore. Not like that. And I think I might…with…Luna."

Hermione's breath hitched. Not because her husband admitted that he was in love with Luna but because she was feeling guilt and shocked. Here Ron was, being mature yet scared, admitting to her about everything that has been running through his mind since he could remember while she is keeping secrets from him. She was a bit taken back to hear him confess about having romantic love towards Luna, another married woman, but she was happy to know that he was not being held back by her. She can't help but ask why is everyone she know suddenly falling for someone married? Gerald is seeing Cole, who is married – Ron is in love with Luna, who is committed to Rolf – and then there is her, who is still in love with Harry. What is happening to her world?

Ron was staring at her tensely. "It – it wasn't out of nowhere, really. I started to realize what I feel sometime after Rose's tenth birthday but I didn't act on it or anything. I actually didn't pay much attention to it. I wanted to make things work with you and I didn't want to hurt you but then last month…I was remind why I-"

"Ron, it's okay," Hermione reassured. She puts the glass down before she turned to him. "I'm not mad."

Ron looked shocked. "Y-you're not?"

"No," Hermione said. "Frankly, we're both on the same page. About our marriage, I mean."

"W-we are?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "The truth is – I don't love you either, Ron. Not like I used to. I still love you like my best friend."

"Well," Ron said deliberately slow. "This changes things."

"Yeah," Hermione laughed weakly. She was not sure how they should act now.

"So," Ron clicked his tongue. "I guess the best solution we got is divorce then."

Hermione gasped. "D-divorce?"

"Well yeah, isn't that what people who don't love each other anymore do?" Ron said. "I mean, I don't want to leave you for Luna because she's married and I don't think she feels the same way but I don't think I can keep pretending to be in love with you. I only did it for the sake of the kids but it's not easy. Everything we do now – holding hands – sleeping in the same bed – and snogging – it just feels awkward now. I feel like I'm snogging my sister." Ron shuddered. "I feel like I'm doing incest."

Hermione laughed. She could only trust Ron to put a little heart in any situation with an obnoxious comment of his. She was glad to know that despite what is happening that he is still his same cheeky and comedic person – he was not letting the bitterness of their failed marriage take over the sweetness of their friendship.

"But the kids – Rose," Hermione sighed. "What about them? I don't think I can do any more stuff that will hurt them. Hugo is a very sensitive lad, Ron, and Rose…I don't want her to think I gave up on her before I got the chance to show her. I don't want her to hate me."

Ron frowned. He moved to sit beside Hermione and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull her close to him. Hermione willingly fell into the heat of his embrace, allowing herself to be surrounded in the familiar pull of his comfort. She didn't start to cry but she felt like she was close to fainting from the intensity of her fears actually coming true; her family breaking away from her. She did not have to worry about Ron hating her anymore but her children no longer wanting to be in her life has become her biggest scare. If a boggart was in front of her right now, she would be seeing it showing how her future would look.

"Listen to me," Ron said. "The kids won't hate you. Hugo is going to want you with him no matter what. If he didn't then he would have ignored you a long time ago. And Rose…she doesn't hate you, Hermione. She just wants her mum around."

"And I told you she gave me a chance this Christmas," Hermione retorted. "Imagine how she'll react when she learns that we're getting a divorce. Not only that, but that will ruin the kid's holiday. Hearing their parents separating is much worse than getting coal from Santa."

"Not if we explain it right," said Ron. "I'm the one who suggested it so it's not your fault. We both came to a mutual agreement. We'll just tell them that."

"I don't want you to take all the blame, Ron," Hermione told him. She slides her hand into Ron's free one and ran her fingers across his palm. "We'll tell them together and hope for the best. We're better doing it that way anyway."

Ron nodded and laid his head on her shoulder as she continued to caress his palm. She glanced down at him and her heart soared in elation. His face was free from any signs of somber and his eyes held the shine in the funereal smothering. He looked a lot like the man she had married years ago. This was the Ron she had loved to have by her side and brighten her day through the clouds of the worst. Everything about him was bright like the Ron who was colorful by remarks and punning jokes. She no longer felt fruitless as she used to be. She felt free. They had let go of each other from each other to be able to be happy – they were no longer obligated to please each other, to do the impossible and be the same as they used to be. They were not the same. Their time together has ended.

But the voice nagging in the back of her head was forcing her to say the words she needed to say from the beginning. She needed to let him know before they make their choice official. He deserved to know her secrets. He is more than her husband. He is her best friend. And her best friends always know what is bothering her.

"Ron, there's something I need to tell you," she said hesitantly. She kept her eyes on their hands as she felt Ron lift his head and his eyes gazing at her.

"What?"

Hermione swallowed and started to explain. She told him about everything that involved Harry from the moment she realized she had a crush on him. She let him know what she felt – she told about what made her realize her feelings for Ron during third year and how she was sure he recuperated in fourth year. She spoke about why she let go of Harry and chose Ron. She talked about during the following years after her choice, how she chased after Ron, how her feelings for him grew, and how she no longer let her remained feelings for Harry blind her choices until she found herself no longer acknowledging them.

And finally, she confessed to him about the kiss. Ron's reaction towards it was somewhat confusing; he looked betrayed by his best friends yet he did not show anger towards them. He did not lash out at her like she expected. She was not sure if it was because they were in an area full of people and he didn't want to cause a scene or if he was still registering what she said.

"So you're still in love with him," Ron stated softly.

Hermione cleared her throat and combed back another lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes. "Ron, I didn't mean to-"

"C'mon Hermione," Ron interrupted with a slight chuckle and raised his head to look at her directly, the unexpected attention of his eyes making her feel small. "I've known you for twenty-six years now so I know you didn't mean to…I just want to know why act on your feelings now?"

Hermione sighed and stared up at the sky, watching the silhouettes of the kids zoom around to avoid the intensity of her husband's eyes. "Something in me changed…it's something different. My mother says that I've changed when I explained it to her." She thought about how she felt back at the school. "But…it's like everything seems clear to me now on who I really am, how I'm supposed to be living, and what I want-"

"What you want?" Ron disrupted and Hermione turned to him. "Or… _who_ you want?"

Hermione inhaled sharply, nodding her head slightly as she glanced down at her hand in his, noticing that they were twitching by the jitters crawling on her skin all through her body. She kept her eyes on them as she slid her fingers over Ron's arm, traveling upwards through the tiny hairs on his skin until she reached the bend of his arm, then she went back down to his palm.

"I'm not going to lie to you Ron." Her voice is now reduced into a soft whisper. "Sometimes I feel like something between me and Harry changed. I could be just me but…Gerald likes to think otherwise. I don't know when and I don't know how but it did or…maybe it never did change. Maybe everything is still the same but it seems more-"

"Clearer," Ron finished. He tightened his hold around her hand as he pursed his lips. "You're starting to come to terms on why you are the way you are with him and it's becoming clearer to you."

Hermione's heart tugged and she sighed heavily as she turned her attention back at the sky. "I'm sorry."

"You know," Ron started. "Back in 1997 when we were on the hunt for the Horcruxes, I always felt like there was something between you two even though you made it obvious you fancied me and Harry fancied Ginny. But I always felt like there was just something there, you know? You were always focused on Harry, worried about Harry, and made Harry your first priority as soon as you woke up," he sniffed lightly. "Yeah, you were the same with me too, but when it came to Harry it hurt because of how you looked. Like you had some sort of urge. The both of you."

Hermione remained silent as she listened. It is not rare nowadays for Ron to come to admittance of his thoughts and emotions but for her to hear about what went through his mind during the infamous hunt of their teen years was unique. She knew that he was overly sensitive about those memories, always being reminded of the image the spelledbound locket tried to tempt him into believing the impossible. But considering how everything shifted between them, she understood why he was so doubtful of her feelings for him and why he was so rash towards her often.

"And when I left, I thought that you had chosen Harry over me because you loved him not because we promised to go through all that hell with him," Ron continued. "And when I came back, I felt things different between you two like…you were in a deeper level without me and nobody could understand that. I sure as hell didn't and you're my best friends. I started wondering what happened in the times I was gone and I always wondered about what the Horcrux showed me – you and Harry snogging and completely starkers. It got me thinking if maybe it was real or not."

Hermione was discouraged by this. Neither Ron nor Harry have ever mentioned to her about what happened when they reunited in the Forest of Dean nineteen years ago and she never questioned it because her mind was focused on ending the war rather than a possible fight between her two closest friends that could be resolved quicker than their hunt did.

"Then after everything, I wasn't in doubt anymore when you snogged me," Ron smiled with a light laugh, the sound bringing a smile on Hermione's face. That is a memory of their lives that they both surely will never regret because it was something they both have waited for through the tears, the heartache, the arguments, and the difficulties. "I couldn't believe that you chose me over Harry and then we lasted longer than people thought we would and we got married and had kids. But for some reason, I had this nagging feeling in me whenever we hung out with Harry and I realized I was still in doubt. Yeah, we all have our lives set – we're married – we have kids – but we all still acted the same." Ron glanced at her before he looked back at their entwined hands. "You acted the same with Harry. And right now, just thinking back at everything that's happened, I realized something."

Hermione waited, never breaking her gaze on the sky. She felt his grasp on her hand tighten, the action silently pleading her to look at him, but she never complied.

"You were always in love with him, 'Mione," Ron concluded. Her two pools of brown chocolate mixed with bewilderment and her mouth parted slightly in befuddlement, but he never broke his stoned face as he continued, "You've been in love with the two of us all this time. You're married to me but your feelings for Harry were never gone because you're always reminded why you love him and to see how he is with Lily, Albus, and James. I know a girl loves to see a bloke act all fatherly to his kids, especially a hero like Harry."

Hermione frowned. "Ron…"

"I practically pushed you to him when I left you guys and whatever Harry did to make you better probably is the reason why this is happening. I appreciate whatever Harry did to make sure you're okay after me but now," he inhaled sharply. "This just gives more reason I can't keep doing this, Hermione. I love you – I just don't _love_ you anymore. And you don't either. We need a divorce."

Hermione's eye widen somewhat at his words, her heart beating erratically. Her vision on him became a blur blob the longer she stared at him, making her rapidly blink her eyes to clear her sight, and later felt a tickling sensation travel down on her cheeks, ending by the tip of her chin as it dripped away from her face. She was mindful that she had formed tears during their conversation without her awareness and the beating of her heart within her chest was agonizingly hurtful, her lungs are bruising. She knew she was heartbroken; the most serious relationship in her life, her first marriage, was ending before her eyes and her perfectly organized life she had worked together with this man was crumbling into pieces in a matter of seconds. But she was harmed by the broken sight of her soon-to-be ex-husband. He also held tears in his eyes, which were dark in despair by how deep blue they become, his jaw was clenched tightly, and his teeth gnawed on his lower lips. He was feeling what she was feeling; everything he wanted, he got it, and now he is ending it. They didn't lose either other – they just lost the spark together.

"Not anymore," he muttered.

Hermione handled the urge in her throat to release a sob and breathed in slowly as she nodded. "I know. I'm sorry...but Ron, don't misunderstand any of this. No matter who I love, you will always be the King of our kids. I'm just not your Queen anymore."

Smiling weakly, Ron bowed his head, allowing his hair to fall over his eyes as his tears finally freed onto his hidden face, sliding to the end of his nose or below to his chin, and then drip on their tangled hands. His shoulder almost sagged by the unexpected weight of Hermione's head resting on him and his arms tingled in the familiar fondness of her touch on him as she slides one arms around his back, rubbing his spine. The fabric of his shirt was soaked by her whimpering tears. She knew he understood her culpability for closure of their lifelong chapter, and despite how he abhorred seeing her in such a low state, he was glad to see her expressing her poignancy over the situation – she was upset because she truly cared about him.

With a sigh, he tilted his head to the side to lean against hers, and mourned over the loss of their deflated love.

* * *

 **A:N:** That's a shocker! Who was expecting this from Ron? Badass Hermione returns yet again for her son and niece! And we saw Auror Harry take action on a Muggle! What a turn of events!

Unimportant opinion of the author: Kudos to Ron! I don't like it when everyone makes him act so arrogant and selfish at this age. I would understand if it was around his younger years but I think that at an adult age, after being with Hermione for so long and getting so much responsibilities, he was able to smooth out his rough edges. He isn't a little insecure boy anymore. He gained confidence, self-respect, and learned to love himself. I can see that for Ron.

Ooh boy, I can't wait for you all to see the next chapter!

 _Reponere_ : To replace

 **Please Review!**


	21. Acceptance

**A:N:** I am so so so so so so so so so SO SORRY for the delay! My WiFi crashed and I had to wait for a new one to come in! I hope you all are not too upset with me! I wasn't horsing around the entire time, I've been working on multiple chapters for you lot since the last update so you need to expect more than one chapter this week! I worked hard on all of them extremely hard for you!

Again I am so sorry for the wait. I was so desperate to come back. Forgive me *Bows head*

I hope you all enjoy your time reading this!

* * *

 _You know I'm not one to break promises_

 _I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe_

 _At the end of it all you're still my best friend_

 _But there's something inside that I need to release_

 _Which way is right, which way is wrong?_

 _How do I say that I need to move on?_

 _You know we headed separate ways_

 _And it feels like I am just too close to love you_

 _There's nothing I can really say_

 _I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more_

 _Got to be true to myself_

 _And it feels like I am just too close to love you_

 _So I'll be on my way_

\- Too Close; Alex Clare

* * *

 _"I'm in love with a woman I can never have. The point is, I'm in love with her and it's driving me crazy. I'm not in control. I have to stay together to protect her and she wants me to be the better man, which means I can't be who I am."_

\- Damon Salvatore; The Vampire Diaries

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Acceptance**

He was sure he was asleep.

He could feel his mind leaving his body behind as it took a trip to the picture inside his head. Then he found himself living a memory, a nightmare; he found himself in the middle of a lonely, deserted path that was settled inside a forest upon a hill that towered over a small town. The path was made out of mud and cracked rocks that continued forward to a cabin home. The sun was not out but even without it, the trees crowding them made their path dark and eerie. There was a very storm looming above him, black clouds were covering the usual cheerful blue sky that usually showers over Montana.

The storm was just as strong as the one from the previous day was. If it weren't for the tree branches leaning over the way, its vines withering away, its hair of green leaves spread out widely like an umbrella, then he probably wouldn't see more than three feet ahead of him. Lightning was the only clear white streak that would appear in the sky. Harry counted, as Sirius had taught him many years ago. One, two, three – thunder cracked, which meant the storm wasn't off, same as before, three miles according to Sirius' calculations. The rain drilled through the gaps of the leaves, jackhammering down on his head. Ironically, his body isn't really there but the rain felt real as he remembered and he was completely soaked to the bone. He probably could be. His cloak could be clinging to his body, his hair stuck to his face, and he just doesn't feel it.

Lightning broke the sky again. He counted once again – one, two – another thunder. The source of the storm was getting closer, the heart of the beating louder. He held the hood of his cloak over his head to shield his vision from the rain as he trudged through the pool of moist dirt. He couldn't see halfway down at the town below. Another lightning flashed. He counted – one. A round of thunder roars above the set of tree branches and leaves; the rain turned horizontal.

He could hear the puffs of their rapid breaths behind them through the drumming of his heart in his ears and the pattering of the rain. The coldness in the air was filling his lungs frigidly and he could see his breath in misty pants. He was watching the cabin intently from behind the many trees he would hide behind. He was waiting for a sign, a clue, to appear around or inside the small home to know there is life. He hoped there was. He needed there to be.

" _Chief!_ " someone whispered loudly behind him. " _Are you sure the information is accurate? We've been staking out this house for two houses now."_

Harry peered over his shoulder at his second in command, Arnold Grumps, and said, " _We had more than one witness confirm their mug shots. Even the waiter got the manager to show us their credit record. It's all under the name Galvin Gudgeon – our victim. All their tracks lead to here._ "

Arnold nodded and looked ahead at the cabin. Harry glanced behind him; there were four other Aurors hiding behind trees, curtains of moss and vines, and bushes. Some of them seem anxious, almost itching to burst into the cabin and go into full combat with either Jugson or Yaxley. They have their personal history with the two criminals – some of them were fans of Galvin Gudgeon and others were injured from their encounter with said dark wizards. They have their hoods up to clear their visions and their wands were drawn, prepared.

Harry turned back to the cabin and kept waiting. A hand grabbed on his shoulder but he didn't look.

"Let's not be rash, Chief," Arnold hissed. "If they're in there then we should give them the element of surprise at the right time. This could be the end of our search."

Harry nodded. Arnold was the only in the group who knew about his personal hatred towards the dark wizards and would try to keep him level-headed during their missions or in the Ministry. He can only hope that his words are enough to give him a clear mind when he faces those two criminals, as he continued to watch the cabin remain silent and dark. His wand was shaking the tighter he held it, knowing it wasn't from the cold of the drenching storm. The anxiety was beginning to overflow in him, as well as anger, impatience, fury, and frustration. He wanted this search to be over – he wanted to go home to his family.

Harry wanted to know how Lily was doing without him – he only hoped that she was sleeping right on curfew. He hoped that Lily was not struggling to sleep because of the 'monsters' under the bed he would protect her from. He hoped Ginny was helping her. He has not spoken to Ginny since the day before he left for this mission and his last contact was the time he sent her a letter to let her know he was fine. He was still upset with her for what she said to him – stating that he finds his job more important than his own daughter – but he finds that as no reason to make her live in fear for his life.

Then he thought about her brother, Ron. He wondered how his sales and deals with the shop is doing. He figured Ron probably managed to get a couple during his leave. Over the years since he started working with George, Ron had discovered his talent in persuasion and he was never really ashamed to use its advantage to expand the products and make the store more known. Ron had even made the cover of _Spellbound Success_ , a new magazine that came out in 2000, and rivaled against _Witch Weekly_. Ron was considered the most thriving wizard after making five company deals in three months. Harry could not be more proud for his best friend. That is why he got the present he bought for Ron.

His mind drifted to Hugo. He missed the little boy's energetic attitude and his impressive high intelligence. He always has a positive behavior through whichever small adventure he would take with his family and he seems keen on making sure to fill in every silent moment by a random story he would live through. Harry especially loved it when Hugo would become eager about Quidditch, his missions, and the short food fights he'd start with Lily or Ron. Sometimes Harry would think that Hugo had ADHD with his never-ending energy but he knew that he didn't. He was just a happy young wizard, enjoying his childhood like his parents wanted him to.

Then Harry's thoughts were haunted with images of Hermione. He was picturing the last time he saw her, during the family dinner on the previous night before his departure; she was paying attention to Hugo as he told another school ground story, rolling her eyes at exaggerated moments, and laughing at Lily's witty comments about his falsehood in some parts. Her ringlets would swish across her cheeks at the shook of her head and the light in her eyes would seem brighter than the chandelier of the dining room. Harry was displeased by his imagination – it could do her no justice in person. He wanted to see her in person again to be able to see her how she truly is. No matter how much he thought of her, he never felt like he could capture the allure of her attractive features.

Harry escaped from his thoughts when Arnold tapped on his shoulder and pointed at the cabin; a light can be seen flickered on and a silhouette went across the window, the curtains drawn to hide their face. But Harry knew the person was Yaxley – he recognize the form of the ungrateful, greedy criminal anywhere. A few rattles and clutters were heard for a moment then the light went out. Harry could have sworn he heard a loud crack but he hoped against the worst.

"Move!" he commanded before he sprung forward. His watery feet splashed the muddy puddles, some of the droplets staining the hem of his cloak that was fluttering through the showering rain. Multiple footsteps splattered behind me afterwards. He did not have to worry about their presence being known to any hikers or nearby residents because they have casted the Disillusion Charm earlier before they started to track down the Death Eaters.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins the closer he got to the cabin; he is uptight in anxiety to be finally end his goal after many years of investigation, restless nights, endless searching, and petty arguments with his wife for working late hours. He would be able to return home to his daughter, Lily, to tuck her into bed and protect her from the monsters under her bed as she slept. He will be able to visit Ron and George at their shop during his free time from work and discuss Quidditch with them. He will be able to treat his nieces and nephews to many sweets as he pleases even if their mothers finding out. He will be able to spoil his children with the latest of their interests and heart's desires. He will be able to see Molly and Arthur at the Burrow as much as he wants.

He will come home again.

As soon as they were close to the cabin, the group of Aurors stopped swiftly under Harry's command. He took a few cautious steps closer to the door, his wand steady, as if he was expecting it to be blown to bits at any time soon, and he peered over at his group. They were all staring down at the wall and windows with heavy glares of many years of built hatred towards the Death Eaters. Arnold, noticing his questioning, nodded and gave him an encouraging smile. Harry returned it before he turned to the door and pointed his wand to the knob as he whispered, " _Alohomora._ " A click was heard and he slowly pushed the door open, cringing a little as it let out a long creak.

The place was darker than the woods. The lightning would illuminate the home. Every object in sight was neat and steadied on their corners. There were no sounds heard except for the echoes of his boots clambering against the wooden floorboard as well as the other Aurors. There was an odor in the room he could not identify – it wasn't odd but a pleasantly common yet it was questionable. It caught Harry's attention the moment he opened the door and he wanted to continue taking a whiff of it but he managed to keep control in himself on the task.

"Spread out – search for them," said Harry; the Aurors nodded and complied, instantly going through every small inch behind any table and under any table.

Harry went his own way; he walked through the living room, unconsciously following the scent he had captured seconds ago. He cannot hear any whispered voices or noises that didn't coming from his men – he could not even find a spot of a footprint or a handprint that belonged to the wanted criminals. He could not explain it himself but the smell was intoxicating to him and it brings such an exhilarating sensation in his blood, making his heart throb crazily and his mind to become madly loose of all senses. It filled him up to the brink like a drink. It was a simple smell of ink, parchment, and cinnamon but it drove Harry insane with want as the seductive smell surrounded him wildly. He breathed in deeply and slowly to absorb it in, to be forever drenched in the scent.

Harry lets the smell drag him towards a door that is half open, the crack seeping out the aroma that has him in an absent-minded state. The floor squeaked under his foot when he got closer to the door and he was about to push the door wider when he snapped back at the voice of Arnold calling out to him in a whisper.

" _Chief!_ " said the Auror. Harry turned to him curiously. " _Are you following that smell as well? Is that where it's coming from?_ "

Harry nodded. " _It's stronger here than most of the cabin,_ " he whispered back.

" _Be careful_ ," Arnold told him. " _I don't think it's normal to smell raspberries this strongly. They don't grow anywhere outside of New England or New Hampshire. Especially in this season._ "

Harry was highly baffled to hear him say this because he does not smell an inkling of the raspberries Arnold was speaking about. He clearly smells the only scents he could identify. Shrugging it off, he turned back to the door, pushed it open, and started to slowly step inside. The room was pitch black than the rest of the cabin – the lightning outside could not even shed any brightness through the closed window. He could not see anything. He did not know what was surrounding him. He did not know what he was walking towards. He was just following the desirable aroma as it became more powerful with each step closer to where it could possibly be the source of it all.

Then, as the fragrance grew robust, he stopped. He knew he was in front of the source as he breathed it in deeply. He could hear Arnold coming close to him from behind, also loudly sniffing in the essence. He wondered again why Arnold smelled something different compared to his, perplexed. He tried to remember where Arnold could have possibly gotten those scents from or if perhaps if he had gotten it accidentally mixed from one of their comrades but he knew it was not that. They all smelled like rain, moss, and sweat. No raspberry was caught in their way during their track here. But Harry could not fixate the smell Arnold spoke of because he was brimming with only the ones he could detect and a voice – one he had not heard from for weeks – broke through his dazed mind. He recognized it to be Hermione's voice: " _This is Amortenia. The most powerful love potion in the world. It's rumored to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them._ "

 _Amortenia_ , Harry thought. _But it smells different from last time. Ginny had a flowery smell on her…she always smelled the same for years. This is different._ Harry tried to think of where he usually smells ink and parchment – he had no doubt it was probably from the office. He couldn't find where he got the cinnamon from. It felt familiar to him. It was literally roaming over the tip of his tongue and the taste was ravishing. It was not strange to him. It was too surreal for him to be addicted to something he could not name. He felt like he knew it. Like he had it on his lips before. Then Harry's eyes opened without him realizing he had closed them. _Hermione!_

He finally found out where he got the cinnamon from – the night he and Hermione kissed was the time when he caught the sweetness from. Hermione held that natural scent of sugariness on that sour evening. The tiny lick of baked brown dough coated in glazed frosting covering her lips like gloss and whiffs of it emerging from her like a common perfume. He remember her telling him that she was obsessed with cinnamon buns when she was little that the smell was practically part of her and her mother had given her the nickname _Cinnamon Buns_ just for tease.

Harry started to wonder; what were Yaxley and Jugson doing with Amortenia? It did not have any sense. They bought many venoms and poisons – he would understand the deadly ones. But a love potion was puzzling. Especially for dangerous wizards like them.

Harry's mind was slowly breaking away from the haze of the charming potion to catch the sound of bubbling liquid, like it was boiling. He does not see any blue or orange flame burning any cauldron but he can feel the heat. It was like steam was filling up the room, enclosing him in the eye of a heat hurricane. It did not feel as nice as the fragrance did to his senses – he felt he was being baked alive in an oven. His skin suddenly felt itchy, his temple started to break out in beads of sweat, and his breathing was now labor. He could hear his heart drumming in his ears. He could also hear Arnold going into a coughing feat behind him.

Harry held up his wand and wheezed out, " _Lumos!"_

But as soon as the tip of his wand was ignited the sparks of the spells for light, he was blinded by a brightness too white and a force very mighty to have him knocked off his feet. He can feel himself flying backwards, breaking through walls and walls of hard wood, cracking his back painfully with each new impact. Shouts and yells are caught in the noise of what Harry assumed to be an explosion. He landed on something hard and he let out an excruciating howl as he felt his back convulse in physical misery. He squinted his eyes open, his vision blurred. His glasses were gone. He could hardly make out what was happening around him. He sees light orange flickering around him in fuzzy blobs and he can feel the ground quake vigorously beneath him as objects collapsed around him. His Aurors were shouting his name and each other's but he cannot see them.

Harry groaned as he tried to push himself up but he later dropped back down. He was shocked to find out that the nerves in his arms suddenly gave out under his weight. He looked around frantically despite his bad vision. He was trying to identify who is near from sound through continuous booms and thuds. The heat from the small room had heightened – there was smoke hovering around, Harry noticed. It made it impossible for Harry to breathe without choking on ash and dust.

"Mercer! Galloway!" he puffed out desperately. "Grimms! Grumps!"

The only answer he got was frenzied yelps and rapid chants of charms. His voice was too weak to be heard. His throat was too dry from breathing in the dried ashes and his lungs were too full of soot. Suddenly, he felt something fall on his face. It felt tiny like snowflakes but heavy like pebbles. He could not see what was above him as it was blurry but he can tell by the way it vibrated that it was shaking, threatening to drop onto him. He made effort to move again but now he discovers that his whole body was now paralyzed to his commands – he was a lying stone.

"Chief!" Arnold's voice screamed at the same time Harry heard what is above him break apart from what kept it sturdy and he closed his eyes to embrace the collision heading his way. And he would have felt it in a matter of seconds if a low oath assuring him safety hadn't shot him from the spot and he was sent tumbling across from a burning sensation, the force of the push making him skip like a pebble in a water, until his side collided with a smooth item, making him let out an aching grunt.

" _GRUMPS!_ "

Harry tried to keep his eyes open, his ears perking at Kennedy's shout of his second-in-command's name, and he mentally kicked himself for not being able to even move his head to look up. His eyes were beginning to droop as his own system was slowly shutting down; he kept his closing eyes set on the scene in front of him. A huge yellowish-orange splotch surrounded by small figures he assumes to be his Aurors. He can see some unsteady lines being shot towards the bigger blob as they yelled out, " _Aquamenti!_ " simultaneously. He hoped that one of them was Arnold – he did not want to think that Kennedy's desperate yell was out of distraught but for assistance.

As his mind darkened into sleep and his eyes followed, Harry realized that the smell of cinnamons was able to sneak past the smoke and burning wood. Or perhaps it was stuck on him from the explosion that hit him. He could feel it clouding up the last amount of his consciousness whilst his vision turned endless black and he felt an aura of safety wash over him as the thought of being embraced by the arms of the seductive scent soon raced through his mind lastly before he lost all awareness to the world. His mouth managed to utter out one word – pronounce eight letters – whisper out one name –

" _Hermione_ …"

* * *

In the Potter Cottage, Harry awoke suddenly, like he has done many nights since his return from Montana. He rubbed his scar out of instinct, as pain of his nightly headache pulsated from within his skull like thunder, and he was filled with the unpleasant sensation of guilt at the memory he just dreamt about. There was also blame – blame at himself for his poor performance of leadership, blame at himself for letting down the many men he lost who put their lives in his hands to guide them back home, and blame at himself for the death of Arnold Grumps. The emotion was electrifying him highly that the tiny hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck stood tall and proud. Unlike Harry; he walks with his head down and in shame.

Harry felt a gentle weight on his right arm. He glanced down and he was greeted with the crazed mane of ginger bed hair of his wife, Ginny, sleeping tranquilly with her head wedged between his shoulder and neck. The freckles over her shoulders were more evident on her skin underneath the incandescent light of the moon pouring through the thin opening of the curtains of his window. She looked to be too far into the calm – he wished he could join her. He stealthily slipped his arm out from under her and carefully slipped his legs out of the covers, his eyes warily watching Ginny for any signs of stirring as he sat upright.

It was fortunate for him that she remained asleep. She is normally the light sleeper out of all the Weasley children. Ron was, without a doubt in the world, the heaviest. He was a rock the moment his head hits the pillow. Bill wakes up on reflexes to sounds that were abnormal to him. Percy was quite standard, sleeping on a regular schedule, depending on what is important on the next day. George was close to Percy but he would stay fifteen minutes longer before he clocks in for work.

Harry eased out of bed, picked up his glasses from the nightstand, and quietly moved out of the room as he plucked them on his face. The floor felt cold even with the fuzzy rug leading him down the corridor. It made him shiver. The hem of his sweatpants dragged behind his heel and sometimes rolled under his soles. He wondered if he should bring out his warmer set as the weather was slowly becoming frigid for the autumn season. He passed James' door splayed with many posters of musical artists who were one-hit wonders or deceased and then came across Albus' door covered in similar posters as James but also autographed pictures of Quidditch players that Ginny was able to convince to meet up with their children. He was expecting to hear some bumps and thumps within the two rooms as he walked towards the staircase but then he was reminded that his young boys were away at Hogwarts and he won't be seeing them until December.

Harry stopped when he saw the opened door to Lily's room and he peered inside out of instinct; the room was dimly lit by the miniature glob of light that could resemble of a Patronus gliding around in the ceiling. It was a creation Ron invented two years after he started working with George – he wanted to give out the same shine of security in one's sanctuary like the Deluminator did for him during the war. He started to make smaller replicas of it, testing them out for their flaws and needs of improvement, until he was able to perfect it enough to be just a ball of light not needed a source to illuminate and would take the form of the owner's favored animal.

Ron had given one to James and Albus when they used to share a room, and one for Rose. They were later passed down to Hugo and Lily. Harry was impressed; Ron was the first wizard to come up with a magical nightlight and received great recognition for his creation. Half of the sales went to him, which he would then split with his parents and brother. Ginny did not want to be involved in the money of his invention – she wanted to earn her money squarely and she did later on when she got signed to the Holyhead Harpies.

Harry was glad to see his daughter sleeping soundly without a care in the world, lazily clutching onto her stuffed wolf, and her hair a complete mess like her mother's. He looked up at the floating glob, seeing it take form of his Patronus through his eyes. He never understood why it did that. His favorite animal was actually an owl. It wasn't because he has one as a pet but mainly because owls were technically the reason why he was able to discover the wizarding world with a simple letter. He figured it only worked for children as Ron designed it to be.

Stepping back, Harry turned away and went to the guest bathroom. He could have used the one joined in his bedroom but he felt like the sound of running water would be enough awake Ginny from her slumber and in the way how recent events are, he thought it would be best not to take any chances with her. The slightest of noises would make her instantly assume it is him struggling with another nightmare or flashback. He was surprised when he woke up, he was not meeting the same bright brown eyes staring down at him worriedly like every other night. He must have tired her out too much. Harry splashed a few suds of water over his face, letting them wash away the shaken nerves he felt from his nightmare, and lowered his head a bit, his hair falling around his face as he looked down at the constant ripples caused by the streaming faucet. He did not want to see his reflection.

Harry was glad he was alone, though. It was nice to be alone once in a while, not having to force a smile or seem pleased to be home, to be away from a tragedy; a relief to stare dejectedly at the water and let a few anguish tears finally escape. He did not let out a complete breakdown – he would save that for when he has some personal time to think about how Arnold's family is handling with his death. As he continued to stare, Harry can see his depressed expression reflecting off the clear water. He hadn't looked this rough in a while – the last time he had been like this was whenever he is stressed about finding Yaxley and Jugson before they would take away another life. Now the bounties on their heads don't seem to have much importance to him anymore. He looked absurdly messy – his eyes seemed dead in a hazel color scheme, grey and slightly black.

He could see why everyone always seems on edge around him.

Harry took his time letting the warm water hear the skin of his cheeks and steam soothes his throat. The droplets slid over his forehead and eyelids – it felt nice. He used the towel from the rack to dry his face, and then he dumped it in the hamper before he turned. He turned stoned on a step when he saw the turquoise color of his godson's hair by the doorway; Teddy Lupin was leaning against the frame, eyes baggy from sleep, arms crossed, and hair crazed. He was looking at Harry expectantly.

"You should be sleeping," murmured Harry nonchalantly.

"So should you," Teddy shot back with a frown, unmoved.

Harry sighed. "Did I wake you?"

"Heard you passing by the room," Teddy said.

Harry nodded and did not say anymore. Teddy was staying in James' room during his visit. He knew he must have naturally stomped when he passed James' and Albus' rooms. He would do that to let them know he was going to check on them and give them a head start to tuck themselves to bed if they weren't already.

"Wanna talk about it?" Teddy suggested.

"There's not really much to talk about. It's the same thing as every other night," Harry answered sadly.

Teddy nodded his head to one direction. "Let's go talk about it. I feel like you're holding out on me with something. Maybe talking about it will let you sleep a lot longer. Study?"

Harry was reluctant at this. He really did not want to talk about his haunting nightmares. He woke up to get away from them. But he understood he needed to sleep; he needed to get up early to drive Lily to school and then later to go to the Wizengamot to speak out for Hermione's innocence at her hearing. He needed to have a biased mind by the time his name is called. He also wanted to be able to sleep normally again without the fear of being reverted back to the last time of his mission or the memory making him trigger the ones of the thousand deaths he had to fight to keep behind his head.

"Not too long," Harry said before he started to follow his godson towards the second set of stairs that lead up to his study, flicking up the light switch off along the way. Passing by the barrister, Harry looked over down at the main floor; there were fake cobwebs stuck to the corners with plastic spiders tangled within them and glass pumpkin seen on any available space of the tables. Streamers of purple and green were hanging from the ceiling, curled around the railings of the staircase, decorated on the edges of the tables. Bats were tied to the hangings of the windows. There were rubber black shapes of witches on brooms stuck to the glass.

 _Stereotypical of Muggles_ , Ginny had said when she bought them. Harry found them comical. People think of wizards with big nose, a beard longer than Santa Clause's, and a ridiculously pointed hat, and witches to be green-skinned, inhumanly ugly with long disfigured noses and huge warts when the person they're talking to could be either one and they wouldn't even realize it.

Teddy was moving ahead of him up the rickety stairs towards his study, dominatingly walking like he was the owner and it was normal for him to be inside the room daily. Harry could not count how many times they had spent inside the study during his visits so it must be a natural thing for Teddy to act so normal. Teddy opened the door once he reached it and waited for Harry to step past him before he entered after him.

The moon was bringing light into the room from the wide windows of the east side, revealing the many stacks of papers scattered over his mahogany desk. The fireplace was still bringing out warmth to the room without the fire, the burnt wood still letting out a few sizzling steam from its darker spots. The portraits were still moving but Harry hardly paid attention to them. The room seemed hollow, almost like Harry was living inside a shell of how it normally looks. There was always color, a sense of life contained in by the walls, whether it is by the watching of the portraits, the flickering of the flames, or the giggles of his children playing Wizard's Chess while he was actively working on a report. But seeing as the room is now, Harry saw what he has been feeling since his return – vacant.

"C'mere!" said Teddy and Harry turned to him, relieved to have a reason to stop looking around. The turquoise haired wizard had opened a door between the towering bookshelves and he was digging through the artifacts he had stored in there. The majority were actually belongings of his parent's that he was able to salvage during the reconstruction of the cottage. They were little but memorable. His favorite was the picture taken of his wedding day; it held the faces of his many missed loved ones and of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix. He only brought it out during specific days but he could never make himself put it up with the other pictures of his family. He felt that one needed to be apart.

Harry approached his godson as he exit the storage room holding two broomsticks, a polished Firebolt and Nimbus Two Thousand, and kicked the door closed whilst holding one out to him. Harry smiled weakly as he took the Firebolt.

"A bit late for flying, don't you think, sport?" he asked as Teddy went to the window, clutching his broom over his shoulder casually.

"I think it's the perfect time for flying," said Teddy with a grin as he unlatched the window and gingerly pushed it open. "It's the late of night – Mum-Gin and Lily are asleep – not a Muggle in sight – we could travel all of London before the crack of dawn if we want to. Unless people love sleeping by a window with their eyes open, I doubt anyone will spot a couple of blokes flying on broomsticks. Besides, we never let daytime stop us from flying so what makes this any different?"

"I gave you such a bad influence," Harry chuckled. "If either of your mums find out you got this rebellious act from me, it's more than just my broom that will be at stake here."

"Stop being such an old tosser," Teddy rolled his eyes. "I can't believe the wizard who is a legend now let's himself be held down by two witches. What happened to one who was all about the fun?"

"He got married and grew old," Harry retorted.

"You're not _that_ old. Now c'mon!" Teddy pulled his broom over his shoulder, holding it steady while he swung a leg over, mounting himself, and then his feet for gliding over the floor as he hovered slightly. He shot a grin back at Harry over his shoulder as he moved past the window, floating in dangerously plain sight. "Bet I could beat you in a race from here to the post office and back!"

Harry raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You honestly think that dainty broom of yours can help you win? Are you forgetting I'm holding the Firebolt? The fastest broom there is!"

"This dainty broom of mine almost beat you last time," Teddy said teasingly.

"It wasn't the broom and you know it," Harry scoffed. "I was being simple while you were using maneuvers to help you get a boost in your speed. The acceleration of your Nimbus is dull compared to mine. You wouldn't be able to handle it – you'd probably get shot off!"

"Excuses, excuses, that's all I hear," Teddy waved him off. "Some son of a Marauder you turn out to be. Afraid that this won't be a close call? Shame on you, Papa."

"Oh ho! Okay, you brought this on yourself," Harry said. He quickly mounted himself on the broom and hovered out into the air next to his godson, a devious grin glinting off mischief like his eyes. He knew what Teddy was trying to do. He was egging him on, challenging him that see who was a better descendent of the Marauders. It was always this way between them when it came to their fathers. Ever since Harry told Teddy about his father, Remus, he has been able to bond more with Harry by doing rash stunts and risky plays. At first it was to prove that he was as outrageous as his father but Teddy later used it as a reason to spend time with Harry.

Teddy smirked and moved his broom to the direction of the location as Harry floated to be next to him, equally prepared.

"You're going to be so sorry when I'm through with you," Harry said.

"Keep telling yourself that and it might come true," Teddy remarked before he set himself in position. "On the count of three, we go. To the post office and back. Ready?"

Harry nodded. "One –"

"– Two –"

"– THREE!"

Harry and Teddy kicked out into a rapid speed across the small buildings and streetlights. An old feeling rushed through Harry like the air blowing his hair back. The pumping of his blood pounded in his ears, the tail of his night robes whipped out wildly behind him, the whizzing of the piercing night breeze passing him, and his nerves were numb by the fierce excitement he was feeling. He started to laugh openly – he felt young and wonderful again. He was brought back to the best days of his life in Hogwarts when he is shooting across the Quidditch pitch with one arm out and his hand open to capture the Golden Snitch that would be humanly blind to others but his eyes. He could literally hear loud cheers of his Gryffindor housemates and of the other houses supporting his team, all of them chanting his name " _Potter! Potter!_ " like a mantra as they watch him.

Next to him, he can hear Teddy laughing as well and it shocked him to see that his godson was in the same pace as him. His surprise must have been caught by Teddy because he leaned further into the broom, both hands grasping it tightly, and shot forward like an arrow from a bow. Harry blinked, processing at the sudden occurrence of events, not believing that Teddy was managing to actually outdo him with a broom that did not have half of the boost like his. Then Harry grinned and pushed into his broom more, chuckling under his breath as he can see himself already gaining up to the young wizard. He felt like the time he was trying to take back Neville's Remembrall from Draco, trying to beat time with speed, as they neared the familiar building of the post office.

"Are you trying to test me? I told you that dainty broom won't help you," Harry said, laughing, glancing at Teddy next to him.

"Oh yeah?" Teddy tried to seem like he was sneering but the wide grin he was sporting made it impossible to do so. "That's quite a big talk coming from you. If your broom is so great then how come you're not ahead of me? You should be back at the house by now!"

"I'm just humoring you," Harry said. He then moved his broom upward to be hovering above his godson and grinned down at him. Teddy glared up at him. He always despised how easy it was for Harry to move at any direction while maintaining the same speed.

It was a second later, everything happened in slow motion for Harry. Teddy's eyes had flickered down and then his broom was following the direction, pointing the tip downwards towards the ground in a steep dive. It was there that Harry realized they had already gone past the post office and were going over the small playground. The trees were bare of leaves, which were together into mountains of piles throughout the area. The local groundskeeper must have tidied it up throughout the day.

Harry followed and rocketed down after Teddy. The strands of his hair fluttered over his forehead through the whistling air, his lenses were starting to frost over by the frigid temperature, but he kept racing after Teddy towards the ground. He saw him glance back over his shoulder, flashes a smile, before he pulled back his broom and he was soon zooming across the park, the force of his speed making the piles of leaves to scatter. Harry copied his actions and trailed behind him, making the leaves to flutter once more behind him.

"C'mon, _old man!_ Have you lost your touch?" yelled Teddy over his shoulder without looking back; Harry decided to end his overly-confident demeanor. He forced the broom to increase its pace, basically leaning his chest against the handle, his robes madly whipping behind him, as he shot past Teddy like a pebble from a slingshot, and now led the way through the park. An astonished gasp reaching Harry's ear made him smile to himself.

When he reached the end of the park, Harry kicked upward into the night sky again, climbing higher than he and Teddy originally were, until he was hovering in the center of the moon. He steadied his broom to a gentle halt before he glanced down at the village below him; streetlamps were glowing the path of the streets and walkways. Houses were lacking light from the windows, crickets were singing happily in the silence, a sound of alley cats tangled in a brawl could be heard echoing, and once in a while a dog would bark out its protest. Aside from those, there wasn't a disturbance in sight. Everything was peaceful – just like he wanted it to be. This was his home. This was where he was born. He had lost sixteen years of life in it but he managed to get them back later on and create memories in it like he should have from the beginning.

Eventually, Teddy had approached him in the sky and pouted. Harry laughed at his face and reached across to playfully ruffle his hair. Teddy smacked his hand away.

"I don't know what you're so smug about," Teddy murmured. "We haven't gotten back to the house yet so you didn't win."

Harry shrugged and looked back down at the village.

"Ready for the roundabout?" Teddy challenged, a grin breaking across his face.

"Actually, I rather stay up here for a while," Harry insisted, crossing his arms to use them to lean against the broom. "I don't see any rush getting home. Plus, I'm too awake to go to sleep now."

"You're not worried about Mum-Gin trampling over you?"

"Oh, she will but I'm sure she'll understand. She's been telling me to get out of the house often anyway."

"Can you blame her? You've been a vampire these past few days."

"Yeah, I know," Harry sighed. "Just have a lot in my mind lately."

"Wanna talk about it?" Teddy suggested. "I didn't bring you out here to get my arse handed to you in flying, you know. I do wanna talk with you."

Harry pursed his lips as he scratched the back of his head. "I don't know what it is you want me to talk about, Ted. It's just the same thing. Me on my mission with the other Aurors – us investigating the cabin – I did a spell – an explosion happens. There really isn't much of a difference. In the end, I caused it."

"Stop right there," Teddy said firmly. "You couldn't have known that poison was in that room."

"But it's my fault for that explosion happening," Harry muttered. "If I hadn't gotten in that room then Grumps and the other Aurors would still be alive. Now they're blood is on my hands."

"You can't keep blaming yourself when someone dies – an Auror, no less!" Teddy tried to reason with him. "They knew what were the risks of this career the moment they signed up for it – no, from the moment they studied classes that require to become an Auror. They knew some day they were going to die from a dangerous mission. It didn't matter whether you are Head Auror or not, Papa, they would have died either way. Do you know how many died before you were recruited?"

"A lot," Harry mumbled.

"Exactly," Teddy said. "Compared to the amount of lives lost back then, you actually have a lot saved nowadays. You hardly lose anybody. Some do get injured but they're alive."

"But compared to back then, a war was going on," Harry pointed out. "I'm losing people on missions. That's small in contrast to a worldwide bloodshed, don't you think?"

"Yes, that is a big difference but at the same time it isn't. You see, you're not in a war anymore but the people you're going after are from it," Teddy said. "And the only reason why these people haven't killed millions like they did before is because of you – they know you know how they work – how they think – which is why you were able to arrest half of them for the past years. These blokes – Jugson and Yaxley – they are starting to catch up with what's new. They're starting to realize that the old ways aren't working anymore as long as you're the one leading the law. They know they don't stand a chance against you that way anymore."

Harry did not speak. Teddy's words made sense as he thought about it. For the past years, he was able to catch Snatchers and Death Eaters without a problem because he knew how they would attack and defend – how they would move – who they would connect with. The old ways, as Teddy called it. But with Yaxley and Jugson it was different. They were being clever. The others were acting on brute strength and depended on it too much. But Yaxley and Jugson were not. They were using strategy, logical, and psychology on Harry. Like they did back in the cabin in Montana; they had enlaced Amortenia with poison, creating it as a weapon to lure in their enemies and destroy them.

That would explain why Jugson impersonating Gudgeon to get those venoms and poisons. They had made a bomb. They were using the old ways with the new. The ways of wizardkind was changing rapidly. Soon wands will not be the only choice of weaponry needed in a duel – the two Death Eaters were ahead of Harry in the game.

"I can see what you mean," Harry said. "It's a bit odd how much things have changed since then."

"Welcome to 2017," remarked Teddy. "Where technology took over the Muggle world better than Voldemort did."

Harry could not stop himself from laughing at that comment. It was ironic how small devices, such as cell phones and iPods, and the Internet were able to overtake a simple world overnight better than the darkest wizard in history could in a decade.

"Better than the alternative," mused Harry. "D'you know how horrible it would have been if that future happened? That would have been a foul world to live in." He gestured a hand towards the village. "I don't think either of this would be here. Just a bunch of rubble and ashes. Probably be the first place Voldemort would burn down. The first home of the wizard who defeated him the first time – demolished. He would get a laugh out of that."

"For that to happen, you'd have to be dead, Papa," Teddy retorted. "Kind of like the brain cells of this generation."

"You're not far along from this so-called generation, Ted," Harry smirked.

"Not by age but by mind, yes."

Harry snorted, nodding. He is forever pleased that his children or nieces and nephews were never like the other kids. He would see them play video games and use the computer to watch videos on the YouTube website but they would never be engrossed in them. They would not be impressed by the new or the gossip on celebrities' lives. They just live with what they have and enjoy with what addition comes their way.

"Do you think the Wizengamot will go easy on Mum-Ne?" Teddy asked after a moment of silence passed.

Harry suddenly felt the air around him shift at the turn of the conversation towards his best friend and he frowned as a recent memory of the week plagued his mind. The day when Hugo was almost expelled, after all was in the calm, he had spotted Ron sitting next to Hermione and had taken her hand. He had looked away to not show any of his dislike towards the scene. He was shocked with himself when he felt rage and jealously bubbling up inside him at the simple affectionate act that was common between his two best friends. It was something he has been seeing for years but it was the first time he was truly focused on it and realized how much discomfort it brought him.

Then earlier on that same day, Hermione had taken an early leave to check on him, to fill him in at every need he would need, and him, being in a delirious mind of PSTD, ended up harming her in the process. She was not angry with him – she was just more worried.

And when she helped him shave, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to mark her lips. He wanted to hear her breathless when he is done kissing her, to see that dazed look in her eyes he'd imagine her to have, to make her cheeks flushed, and make her want more from him. He wanted to pour out how much he missed her, how much he worried about her, how much it angered him that she would pop in his mind during his mission. How frustrated she left him to not being able to see her. He wanted to devour that mouth with all kinds of kisses – soft, rough, gentle, strong. The urge was frightening for Harry for a moment he thought he would actually act upon it. But he was able to control himself at the last minute and kiss her forehead instead.

It was a relief that he did but it made him disappointed.

"She'll be fine," Harry answered thickly. "She's been in the Ministry for years – been an essential member of it. I don't think they would give her a lethal punishment. Technically she was protecting a wizard from a Muggle. We need to be able to learn the basics before we head to Hogwarts or we'll never be able to do some of the necessary subjects. Gotta learn as a Muggle to be able to learn as a wizard."

"You should say that during her hearing," Teddy said.

"I will." Harry paused, glancing nervously at his godson from the side. "Hey, Teddy, I need to tell you something. Something has been happening for the past two months and I don't know how to explain it well. You're probably not going to like it."

Teddy blinked in confusion. "Go ahead."

Harry didn't look at him, keeping his eyes roaming over the village, whilst he scratched his cheek, and then he started to explain to him about everything from the beginning. He started from the exact moment he could pinpoint when everything was beginning to change, which was when Lily had asked him why he hadn't gotten together with Hermione and he was left without an answer. He tried not to cringe when he told Teddy about the unfaithful kiss he shared with Hermione and the feelings that later followed up to it – jealously, longing, dislike, adoration, self-loathing, contentment, and regret. He explained about the memories of Hermione he would constantly think about and how he would feel when he starts to realize the little things he noticed about Hermione, the little things he would see himself do because of Hermione.

Harry could not make himself look at Teddy when he started to talk about the moment when he would compare his behavior towards Hermione with his towards Ginny when he was younger. The conversation transitioned to the wants and don'ts when it comes to Hermione – wanting her to not cry, wanting to always laugh, wanting her to nag at him for his stupidity, wanting her to demand him to take a break from his work, and wanting to be in Ron's position. Teddy's face remained impassive throughout the whole talk. And when he reached the tiny moment in his mission, the one detail he left out during the other talks he had with Teddy, he told him about the potion.

"You smelled her?" Teddy repeated in bewilderment.

"Amortenia – I'm sure you remember it from Potions Class," Harry said. "Usually I smell Ginny's scent in there but instead I smelled Hermione's."

"So…does that mean you're like…in love with her or something?" Teddy asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, Amortenia doesn't define whether you're in love or not with someone, it just identifies the smell of the person you're attracted to. So…I guess you could say I'm attracted to Hermione?"

"But what about Mum-Gin? Aren't you attracted to her anymore? You said you didn't catch her scent in the potion anymore. Does it mean you don't love her anymore?"

 _Do I still love her?_ Harry thought about it. Does he not love Ginny anymore? He never thought about what his feelings for his wife are right now. He had been focused trying to solve his mess of emotions towards Hermione and now that the topic in brought up, he questioned; was there still love in him for Ginerva Weasley-Potter?

Ginny had evolved into an extraordinary woman. He had seen bits and snits of her growth since he met her.

He remembered how adorably shy and awkward she acted around him because of her infatuation on him. He would always see her freckled face pink shaded while her eyes would light up at the sight of him or the sound of his voice. He had cared for at first like a friend, mostly out of politeness because she was related to Ron and the Weasley had practically adopted him as another one of their own, so he wanted to be as comfortable with each member as he was with Ron. Then she came to Hogwarts and his care for her had grown into the protectiveness of an older brother would for his youngest sibling when her life was being drained out of her by Tom Tiddle. He feared for her, dreaded even at the thought of her dead. He did not want to lose her.

From that moment on, he kept her equally in his heart in the same place he had for Hermione; a friend he loves as family.

Then as the years went on, so did the both of them. Although, thinking back at it now, Ginny had showed subtle hints that she was still romantically interested in Harry and he had saw those signs but he hardly paid attention to them because he was focused on other tasks. It wasn't until fifth year, despite his crush on Cho Chang, he noticed how much Ginny had changed. Unlike Cho, the first thing Harry saw was that Ginny's abilities had gotten proficient even though she was in fourth year and that impressed him endlessly. She had no more signs of the little timid girl he had saved in his second year. She did not need a savior anymore – his attention was caught by this.

In sixth year, Harry saw many things between him and Ginny than he ever did. He saw how much of a stunning woman she became inside and out. The crimson red of her hair was beautifully natural, the way how it swished over the middle of her back like a paintbrush did on a canvas was artistically marvelous. The freckles dusted on her cheeks helped him see how captivating the glint in her bright brown eyes were to him, especially when they would become lighter in happiness, excitement, and out for trouble. Then her personality made her much more of a dream to him. The most he could use to describe how he felt when it came to her was normal. She knew who he was and what he was destined to do but she treated him like a boy next door. He enjoyed that – the feel of living without worries and being treated as an equal instead of a priceless jewel on a pedestal like most girls do.

Harry now felt confused. He could not find any reason to not be in love with Ginny. To say she isn't like most girls, is one of the main reasons why he fell for her in the first place. She had a crush on him like the majority of the female student population did but she went on with her life and with a little push from Hermione, she had gotten his heart. Yet Harry finds out, with a stroke of panic, that he did not feel the attachment he held towards he like he did when he was younger. Not even when he thought about how she bared him the gift of being a father to three lovely, beautiful children, how she had given him the chance he had lost many years ago. He felt gratitude for her to go for nine months three times to expand their family but the utter devotion and sheer love he once felt for her could not be spotted. It made guilt rip him apart.

"Papa?" called out Teddy, bringing Harry out of his overdriven thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Somberly, Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not. I…I don't know what I feel towards Ginny anymore. I love her. But…I don't know how I love her now. I never thought about it until now."

Teddy nudged his broom to glide in front of Harry and stared at his conflicted face. Harry was staring down at his hands, lost direction seen in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured. He knew how much love his godson has for his mixed family, the same people who had taken their time to raise him and fill his love with unconditional love, and for him to hear his godfather not having an answer a question he should not be struggling with must be making him incredibly sad. One word could change everything and he was not sure how much Teddy could take altogether.

"Don't be," Teddy said. "It's not like you're doing this on purpose."

"Still," Harry sighed. "I'm being selfish here putting all of this on you. Maybe we should head home and just sleep it off. I'm probably sleep-deprived."

"I doubt I can sleep knowing this is eating you up." Teddy scratched his head. "Maybe you're just confused. You and Mum-Ne have been best friends for ages, you know, maybe you just hit that point in your life where you wonder it could have been more or not. It happens to everyone."

"But I don't even know what I feel for Hermione!" Harry said. "All I know is that I'm attracted to her but it could some short-lived. A passing fancy. Maybe I'm going through some mid-life crisis or something."

"Not likely." Teddy stopped for a moment to ponder, tapping his fingers against his broom. Then his brows rose. "How about you do a list of pros and cons for each of them? Find out who holds the qualities that you love the most and what is it about them that you find most infuriating."

Harry pursed his lips. "Isn't that…a bit sexist or something? A bit disrespectful towards women."

"It's the best lead we got," Teddy said with a shrug.

"And you want to do this list now?"

"I don't see a better chance. Any other we'd be on the risk of getting caught by one of them and I don't look forward to meeting the end of their wand."

"I suppose."

Teddy clapped and rubbed his hands. "Great! Who'd you wanna start on first?"

"Er…" Harry hesitated for a second. He felt quite uncomfortable now. He was speaking about two important women in his life with a boy he considered his son, someone he raised. It held a bit of irony in it. "Hermione, I guess."

"Okay, so what's good about Mum-Ne?" Teddy asked.

"Well," Harry pondered a moment. "She's intelligent, that's a given. She's loyal – hard-working – responsible – organized – sometimes, she can be a bit funny – she's trustworthy – courageous – um, what else? Oh! She's a strong witch, a bright one – determined in her beliefs – very thorough – still studious – kind, obviously – very caring – she's also very helpful. I don't think I would have made it through Hogwarts without her or the time at the Triwizard Tournament if she hadn't taught me those spells. And she can be supportive – depends on how far the situation goes. She can be understanding on some things – I learned a couple of new things about her recently that she probably understands about me. She's also great with the kids. She loves her family very much. And…she's my best friend. That's an important thing."

"Okay, so we already ruled out the pros about her, now what about the cons?" Teddy questioned urgently.

"I don't know. I mean, all right, I guess you can say she's infuriating sometimes when she acts all motherly – always pampering me every five to ten minutes," Harry said. Teddy nodded in agreement. "And…you know, she's still a little bossy – she nags down on me whenever I do something wrong and lectures me why I should have done the right thing. Her sense of humor is sort of limited – I can only takes jokes so far with her. She spends way too much time in books that sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a wall. She gets frantic over the smallest details sometimes. She gets easily angry over a silly comment. Um, I don't like it when she cries – I'm not really good handling with crying girls and she sort of does that a lot, again, depending on the situation. She's too obsessive over rules – once in a while, it wouldn't hurt to break them if necessary. And, oh, her interests are way too different from mine – she'd rather stay behind parchment and ink while I'm flying on a broom. With Ginny, I can fly with her."

"Okay, anything else?"

"No, I think that's it."

"Okay," Teddy crossed his arms. "Now let's do Mum-Gin. What are her pros?"

"She's everything," Harry answered without hesitation. "She's basically the polar opposite of Hermione's cons. She's funnier – she doesn't baby me twenty-four-seven – she does tell me when I'm wrong but doesn't frown upon my choice. She shrugs off the smallest thing that doesn't go well – she proved that when she was much more calm organizing our wedding and would joke about the mistakes that happened that day. She gets mad if comments have gone overboard – she rarely cries about things. She only follows rules that won't get her into trouble – the rest she will break them without a care. Our interests are one and the same."

"We're getting somewhere now," Teddy said pleasantly. "Now to her cons. What's wrong with her?"

Harry's lips tighten into a thin line as he thought about Ginny, about how he felt towards her back then. He had been in love with her to the fullest. She was a special kind of woman who he was lucky to have loving him. She has her wrongs – she was not entirely perfect. And he loved that about her. She was everything he told Teddy. Talking about her made him think about how she was able to bring a little light in his darkest time back at Hogwarts with the pressures of Quidditch, the Prophecy, and Dumbledore's death weighing down on him. Because she was being herself. It was her personality that made him feel like he was just another wizard among the group, like there was no war threatening to take over their lives, and it was her knowing him that made him admire how she understood his choices. She did not cry – she did not beg – she just wished him luck and prayed for him to be the one alive in the end.

It was that moment that she had given him something worth living for; a future with her. She made him think about something he never thought he would have.

Then when the war was over, a couple of months after everything had settled down, he finally got what he fought for with her. The first few months together went off as they were expected – simple and heavenly. Their relationship was good once he was right in the mind and ready to let her in. She never pushed. She helped him grow more attached to the new world, to his new life, and he was whole again before she left with Hermione to finish their last year at Hogwarts together and he went into the Auror Training Program. They survived through letters, his occasional visits to the school, and her arrivals during holiday weekends, until she graduated. It was a little later, she was signed into the Holyhead Harpies and he was assigned for his first Auror mission. Arguments and disagreements lashed around them as their timings together were shortened, like any couple, and eventually they decided to have a break from each other.

It was until Ginny returned from a tour that she announced she will be retiring from Quidditch to work in the sports column of the _Daily Prophet_. Harry did not like the idea for various reasons; she was giving up her career and she would be working with the people he disliked. But she had insisted because she missed home and him. They tried their relationship again and it seem to be a lot ecstatic than the previous one. They were obsessed with each other – they could hardly keep their hands off each other whenever they were alone. It was like all the raging hormones they have suppressed for so many years have finally broken out and held no control. The fire between them was lasting – they decided to marry and have children, and the flames were still there.

But as Harry thought about it, he can see that those sparks, those explosions, have actually dried down over the years.

He was still Harry. She was still Ginny. They were the same people only they have jobs to work for money, children to tend, and bills to pay. They still act the same as they used to be when they were younger. There was no change. She was witty and he was willing. The intimacy between them never faded – they just had sexual intercourse a couple of nights ago when he had a nightmare about the war and her comforting him ended with them rustling the sheets and knocking the pillows off the bed.

It was as blissful as it normally is but it was different. Harry felt ecstasy surge through him from Ginny's touches and kisses but felt usual. It did not come to him naturally like it always does – it was more like it was expected to come. And then he would go through the motions while his mind would wander off to anywhere. He didn't think of anything, or anyone, to his relief, but his mind was just gone the moment he feels Ginny nibbling his ear. It isn't just during those private moments of theirs behind closed doors, but it is also in their daily lives as well. Everything was expected to him when it comes to them. They would wake up – take turns on who drives Lily to school – go to work – visit each other during lunchtime – go back their shifts – return home and cook dinner as the other picks up Lily – eat with the Weasley – talk about splitting which bills to pay – and then go to sleep.

He felt like a machine on autopilot; he could not remember when was the last time he and Ginny went on a date night, took a quick flight around on their brooms, or spent a whole day in together. The last time they did was two days before he left for his mission.

It wasn't normal to feel obligated to act so mechanical with the person he loves and that scares him. It was wrong. He should feel the want to fulfill the satisfaction – the need to want it to be whole – not just go with it like it was a training exercise. He should feel thrill, contentment, to be able to have his wife's company even for a few minutes of his day. But instead he feels like he's just there. He doesn't feel anything. And that saddens Harry. He remembered that they used to berate each other to push out the silence between them but nowadays, once he was over with the flashbacks, he knew they would go back to speaking about chores and taxes like an old routine. No suggestions to go flying, no plans to go out, no activities aside from dinner with the family.

"Papa?" asked Teddy's voice. "What's wrong?"

Harry sighed and looked at his godson directly in his eyes. He finally knew the answer. He could not deny it. It was inevitable. The only thing wrong with Ginny is that everything was simple with her – everything was too normal. They were the typical married couple who has their happy ending of every book. They have history – they fell in love – they tied the knot. It all felt too written. Maybe that is why Harry felt like a robot; he felt like he was doing the things he does with Ginny because someone is having it written out for him. He knew that it was ridiculous to think such an analogy – his life was not a book. But it was the best description he could think of to what he is feeling.

Then he thought of Hermione. She was different; she knew who he is and understood his choices but she would fight against him with logic and common sense. She would make it difficult for him to come up with a solution that is to both of their liking. She would not let go of his mistake if it ends up with him getting injured or having a near-death experience because she is angry at him. She is too much of a control freak – he shuddered at the memory of how frazzled she was organizing her wedding. She demands too much as if she held power of him and what he does or thinks. And then there are her tears; he is always awkward around her whenever she cries because he does not know how to comfort a girl. It does sometimes annoy Harry how she'd rather rely on words on a page instead of a person's whenever she is doing research. He could not stand facing a tower of books whenever he is talking to her.

Hermione was a difficult person to handle. She was too opinionated – too stubborn in her beliefs that seem unreachable – too short tempered at times – unable to admit when she is wrong about something - and occasionally whiny. He could understand why Ron fights with her so much.

And still, Harry now doesn't sees these traits as Hermione's cons anymore the more he thought about them. They were more of the answer to Teddy's question. Hermione was not easy – she doesn't make anything easy. It's always a new challenge with her daily. Perhaps that is why Ron loves to rile her up. Perhaps that is why Harry was able to withstand Hermione for so many years. And perhaps that is why he smelled Hermione's scent in the love potion. The only con Ginny has was that –

"She's not Hermione," Harry finally answered.

* * *

Ginny was still asleep when Harry and Teddy returned at the cottage.

Harry was staring down at her solemnly, too full of guilt, as she breathed evenly, unaware being watched. She was uncaring, weightless to all responsibilities whenever her eyes are closed. She isn't thinking about finishing writing an article, or scheduling an interview with a Quidditch player, or being on time of a Quidditch match, or being a mother to their last child. She was dreaming, relaxing. No thought about worrying over him was passing through her resting head. And he was glad to be able to see her unmoving in peace. He liked her this way.

Hesitantly, carefully slow, Harry lifted a hand and ran the back of his finger over her cheek, following the little freckle trail until he reached her jawline. The light pressure he applied made her stir, her mouth twitching, but she did not awake. She weakly stretched before she slumped deeper into the pillows, her messy hair bordering around her face like a nestling halo. Her porcelain skin stood out from her hair – he could see her calm face within the tangled whirlwind. She was at ease because Harry had showed no signs of disturbance.

Guilt shot Harry again. He knew the past few nights have been rough for Ginny because of him. She was tittering over the edge whenever he would have a momentary pause of silence and he would be too quiet when he's alone in one room for too long. She would be too cautious whenever he was left with Lily to play dolls and card games in her room – once in a while she would check in on them or she would invite herself in the games. He was used to her acting in such a worrisome way whenever he was struggling through harsh patches; Ginny grew up seeing Harry stand tall and unscarred so for her to see the same man act untamed and vulnerable was nerve-wrecking for her. The one time she ever saw him that way was during the period of Sirius' death and the first few times he suffered through PTSD. But like those other times, she did not push the boundaries and waited until he was able to open again.

As he stared at her, at this woman who gave him a life with three wonderful, healthy children he could not imagine living without, at the woman who is the reason why he has his own family and is part of an extended one, he felt nothing. Everything that came from her – happiness, enchantment, normalcy, love – was lost. The way he saw in her had changed. She still looked the same as the woman who gave him all he desired, all that he lost time of, yet he cannot see her the same as he used to since sixth year anymore. He was starting to see her as the little girl he saw at King's Cross who was in hysterics to have finally seen _The Harry Potter_ in person for the first time, the same little girl he had grown to care as his own sister on his second year. She looked like the more well-proportioned version of the girl he had fallen for in sixth year but his eyes, once clouded, were now opening up again and seeing Ginny Weasley, the younger sister of Ron Weasley, his best friend's youngest sibling, the most he is protective of.

He doesn't see her as the woman he turned into Ginny Potter.

When Ginny's eyelids trembled lightly, Harry decided to discreetly leave the room. He slowly pulled the door closed and then turned to Teddy after he heard the click. He was staring at him curiously and regrettably.

"Are you okay?" he asked lowly.

Harry stared at him. "I should be asking _you_ that. I basically just admitted to not being in love with my wife – someone who helped me raise you and you see as your mother…Are you okay, Ted?"

Teddy looked uncomfortable. "Honestly, I don't know. I mean, I wasn't expecting any of this when I came over. It is a bit weird to see the man who raised me admit he isn't in love with the woman I've seen him for a long time. I don't know what to think about it."

"I'm sorry," Harry said sadly. "I know this is hard for you. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around all of this. It still hasn't sunk in yet."

"Good luck when it does," Teddy chuckled weakly. "It's sort of a confusing feeling."

"Hey," Harry said, placing one hand on his godson's shoulder. "No matter what happens, we're still your family, Ted. It's going to take more than me for you to lose that – it will never happen."

"I'm not worried about that, it's just…" Teddy scratched his head; Harry noticed the hair color had turned green. "What _is_ going to happen now?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not so sure. I'm pretty new at this sort of thing. I guess I can only hope the best of it comes."

Teddy nodded and didn't say anymore. There was an awkward pregnant pause among the two. Harry was combing his tussled hair back frequently while glancing up and down at the corridor, and Teddy found his bare feet quite interesting. Neither spoke a word – it amazes Harry how they were able to be comfortable around each other and it took a change of topic to make them act suddenly like two shy kids meeting each other for the first time in the playground.

"You should go to bed," said Harry. "Get some sleep – clear your head."

"Will you be able to sleep?" Teddy asked anxiously.

Harry hesitated; he actually had an urge to satiate ever since their talk.

"I'm going to make a phone call," he said.

Teddy looked skeptical. "This late at night? That's mad."

"It's just a quick one," Harry shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"Well…okay. Good night then, Papa."

"G'night, sport."

Teddy clapped his Harry's back, gave him a small smile, before he turned and headed toward James' room. His hair changed back to turquoise; he was feeling a bit better. Harry waited in front of his bedroom, watching his godson as he trekked across the rugged floor and then disappeared through the only door seen open in the corridor. He stayed there for another moment until he saw the door click shut and then he quietly stepped down the hall himself, being extra careful with his steps when he passed by Lily's room.

The house was still now. Harry cringed as he made his way down the staircase, one of the steps groaning in protest under his weight and echoed through the hollow hallways. He had stopped for a minute to listen in, to hear any noise from his bedroom or Lily's. There was none, much to his relief. There was only loud rustling of bed sheets and the squeak of a headboard – he knew it was coming from Teddy because he never got to fix that irritating noise on James' bed. He continued his trip down until he reached the foyer and he looked around. There were picture frames – family pictures – skewed throughout the area, mixed along with the Halloween decorations, some pinned on the wall, others still on their old place on the tables next to the pumpkins, and they held memories of his family beaming. It felt sick in the stomach to think he would be the cause that these pictures make be gone.

Harry moved towards the landline in the main hallway to avoid looking directly at the picture and he immediately started to punch in the one number he ever called on the device as he held the phone between his cheek and shoulder. He knows he must have gone insane to even consider making a simple call at three in the morning, knowing fully well they were dead in their sleep as well as every other person in London who was sane. But he knew he wasn't like them. Sane people don't wake up in the late of night, take a flight in front of the moon, and then come with the revelation of falling out of love with their wife. It would only happen to him.

Once he dialed in the last number, Harry waited anxiously, listening to the ringing in his ear that he knew must be causing a loud ruckus in their quiet home, as he looked around at the decorations. It wasn't until the third ring that Harry came with a realization; what if the person he wants to hear isn't the one who answers? He hadn't thought about that. He was just following his urge, allowing his hands to move unconsciously, while he watched. His mind was on a temporary shutdown the entire time. But now that he was more awake, he was aware of how wrong it would seem. He could cause an unwanted wedge for his reckless act of longing if the phone was answered by –

Suddenly the ringing stopped and Harry held his breath as silence flooded in his ear. He heard someone letting out a very tired yawn, finishing it with a slight whine. He could not tell who it is. His heart pounded against his chest nervously. He had half a mind hanging up on the spot but then he remembered they were more updated in technology than he was – their phone has caller ID. They could redial as much as they want until he answered them. He had no way out.

"H…Hello?" a sleepy voice whispered into the speaker and Harry finally released his breath once he heard it was a female.

The voice belonged to Hermione – the person he wanted to hear.

"Hello?" she repeated a bit clearer yet Harry could still hear the exhaustion in her tone. "Is anyone there? Hello?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but then he found he could not find his voice. For some unfathomable reason, he couldn't summon the courage to talk to her. It was as if the husky sound of her voice left him paralyzed in wonderment. He does not think he ever heard her speak in such a way before – all sultry and low. He probably has but listening to it so intently right now left his ear buzzing in tingles and he could feel himself shivering in the utmost delight. He had closed his eyes to only focus on her voice instead of the crickets outside.

"Look whoever this is, it isn't funny –" Harry could imagine the tiny frown forming between her brows whenever she scowls, " – If you dare call here again, I'll send the coppers on you. Have a good night, you git."

Harry chose this moment to finally breathe out a quiet, "Hermione."

A pause followed on the other line before she whispered a shocked, "Harry?" and he was not surprised by the astonishment in her words. It was rare for him – for any of them – to communicate in the Muggle way. They mostly use owls, a Patronus, or the Floo Network to reach other. The only time they ever use their phone is mostly when they are in an area full of Muggles or if they wanted to talk to Hermione's parents or if Mr. Weasley was testing out a new type of phone.

"Hello," Harry said casually.

"Harry, wha – do you know what time it is?" Hermione demanded.

Harry grinned. "I'm guessing it's not eight?"

"Cheeky. No – seriously, it's late. What are you even doing up at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep," said Harry. "I actually just got back from a flight with Teddy – cocky boy actually thought he could beat me in a race with a Nimbus. I showed him I still got it."

"It's nice to hear you bonding with Teddy – odd time to do it if you ask me but still nice," Hermione took a second to let out a yawn before continuing, "But that still doesn't explain why you rang. I doubt it's to tell me how you beat your godson in some race."

Harry chuckled. "Maybe I just wanted to talk to you."

Hermione didn't answer right away and that worried Harry. He couldn't understand why it made him nervous. Maybe she was slow in the mind because she was tired? Or had he said something wrong? Did his words make her uncomfortable? He wasn't going for that.

Finally, Hermione said, "Are you okay, Harry?"

 _Define what you mean by 'okay'_ Harry thought bitterly, his mind going back to Ginny, but he was able to answer an easy, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked worriedly. "You didn't have another nightmare did you?"

Harry shook his head even though she couldn't see him. "No, no, not really."

" _Harry_ ," Hermione said in a low, warning voice.

" _Hermione_."

"Stop that – I'm serious. Have you or have you not have another nightmare? _Be honest_ ," Hermione added the last bit strongly, emphasizing her words.

Harry sighed deeply, knowing she was not going to move past this until he gave her a satisfying answer. Another con of Hermione Granger; determined to bring the truth out of him no matter what.

"I…may have gotten a flashback," he muttered, resigned.

"Oh Harry," whispered Hermione sadly. "What was it about this time?"

"The mission – the explosion –"

"Harry, listen to me, okay – it's not your fault. You couldn't have known."

"But Hermione –"

"I said, listen to me, Harry James Potter!" Hermione interrupted sternly before she kept on with a softer tone, "You can't keep blaming yourself for Arnold's death. I know you feel responsible for it but you can't let it take over your life. If you do that then how are you ever going to capture Yaxley? The man who _is_ responsible for his death. He'll just keep roaming around a free man and that will be putting Arnold's name in vain."

"This is all coming from the same woman who was against my job not too long again," Harry remarked with a slight smile. "What changed?"

"I know you weren't listening to the slightest bit of what I was saying to you," Hermione chuckled.

"That's a bit harsh, I can listen when I want to," Harry protested.

"But you don't when you don't want to," Hermione pointed out; Harry could not argue with her there.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "So what changed?"

"Don't get me wrong, Harry, I still wish you were living a less lethal career," Hermione sighed. "But, I come to the conclusion that the only way you'll see yourself working differently is if you finish this personal vendetta you have. I don't want to encourage it – I don't want to see you hospitalized again. But I want it to be over for you – I want this to be done. I'm tired of seeing a hollow shell of you."

A frown broke on Harry's face as he listened to Hermione. He could feel the distress he was causing her because of how he is living – the discomfort she gains knowing his life is being risked at every second the moment he wakes up on a new day. He could picture her the same way she showed herself the day she openly expressed her concerns and dislikes towards his career – face scrunched up, eyes glassy with unshed tear unnoticed by her, bottom lip trembling against the sob threatening to break out – the look of a broken heart. He could still see it by hearing her now.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, turning to the side to lean on his shoulder against the wall. "I'm sorry. I know I can be –"

Hermione stopped him. "Stop apologizing, Harry. I wish you would stop doing that – you've been doing that a lot. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I guess."

"Well, I _know_."

"Of course you know," Harry laughed lowly. "You're _the_ Hermione Granger; the brightest witch of the century."

"Is it really necessary to put exaggeration in my name? Or at all?" groaned Hermione, although he could sense the unseen sheepish smile and it was contagious enough to make him grin widely.

"Now you know how I feel when people refer to me as _the_ Harry Potter. It isn't pleasant and very embarrassing," he teased. He heard her grumble under her breath and he let out a quiet laugh at her incoherent words.

"Yes, quite embarrassing," she mumbled awkwardly.

Harry smirked. "Better get used to it because when you win the Rowle case, your name will be all over the papers and they will refer to you that way," he paused, waiting for her to say a smart comeback, but when she didn't talk right away, he continued, "Speaking of cases, are you ready for your hearing? It's starts at seven, yeah?"

"In four hours, yes," Hermione said. "I'm not too worried about it."

Harry raised an amused brow. "Confident to be scott free, aren't you?"

"Not to sound cocky, but yes," Hermione said. "I've been reviewing the laws of the Statute of Secrecy and I found a loophole. According to Clause 73, for it to be violated you need to have performed magic in front of a Muggle and revealing yourself as a witch or wizard. I actually went around it to not have violated it. I used a spell on a Muggle that would make him forget about the magic with new memories stored. I left no clues of me being a witch anywhere around him – he doesn't remember anything from the moment I used the False Memory Charm. And technically, I did use magic on an emergency – I was protecting another wizard. Section fifteen, paragraph seven states that magic can be necessary if another is in trouble with a Muggle and it's like you said, Hugo's education was in a conundrum with that wretched headmaster."

"That…that was impressive insight, Hermione," Harry said in awe. He was stunned yet astounded by her excellent inferring and outstanding ability to searching answers. He should be used to it by now after twenty-six years, of homework, of studying, and of friendship with her but she still managed to leave him speechless. He could see why Kingsley made her Deputy Head of the Law Enforcement.

"It was just a bit of light reading," she commented.

"Right – light."

Harry wanted to humor her. He knew the pamphlets about the laws and restrictions of the wizarding world would take over three weeks to finish reading as they were almost three detailed books in one. Reading them was anything but light. Hermione's way of light is reading a thick tome that would last six to eight weeks to finish while Harry's is a thin novel.

"So I guess that means you won't need me as your witness anymore," said Harry in mock disappointment although he did feel it; he was hoping to be able to give her some assistance in proving her innocence when she had practically taken his place in receiving the punishment without his consent. It was his idea to use magic and he should be the one facing the Wizengamot, not her.

"Not really, no, it's not really urgent as it seemed a few days ago. Although…I wouldn't mind if you came," Hermione added, and her words crushed the little hope Harry was holding and revived it at the same time.

"Really?" Harry tried not to sound too eager.

"Yes, I mean – Harry, please don't laugh at this – I still find the counselors to be intimidating even though I am one of them," Hermione admitted meekly.

Harry tried to hold back the bubbly laughter fighting to break out, but he ended up coughing out a few chuckles at the hilarity of the concept. He can hear Hermione scoff disapprovingly in his ear.

"I told you not to laugh!" she hissed.

"I – I'm sorry!" Harry snickered, not entirely sorry at all. "But – H-Hermione – do you see the irony in this? You're afraid of the people – the _same_ people you work with!"

"I didn't say I was afraid," Hermione said haughtily. "I said I found them to be intimidating. It's just something with the way they stare at me that makes me feel uncomfortable. You've been on the end of those so you must know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I do," Harry smiled, sniffing lightly as he swiped a thumb under his eye to wipe away the small tear there. "Still, that made my night."

"I'm glad to know that my awkward demeanor brings amusement to you," said Hermione sarcastically and Harry could imagine her rolling her eyes. "Hey Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I hope you get better soon – I hope you will stop putting too much on yourself too –"

Harry sighed. He really wished she would drop the subject about his nightmare. He knew he shouldn't have mentioned it to her because now she will be bringing it up once in a while as a reminder to let go off and worry about him too much. He was having a pleasant time just talking to her about random topics that didn't involve him getting well and getting lost in time. He called her because he wanted to hear her not listening to her concerns about him.

"– the Ministry feels a bit lonely without you there."

This caught Harry's attention instantly. He felt his face heat up as he laughed nervously, "I'm sure it's not so bad. You have Gerald and Julie with you."

"Gerald has some issues of his own so he isn't around often. Julie is busy with a case of her own – something about underage dueling," Hermione said.

"Oh I'm sorry to hear about that," Harry swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry from the tension circling around him. "Well, have you tried to visit Ron during your lunch break? I'm sure he would enjoy your company."

Harry felt his skin tighten with goose bumps when Hermione laughed quietly into his ear, "I'm sure Ron wouldn't mind having me around. But I think we'll be too busy gathering together some things to be able to have a moment to ourselves."

"Oh," was all Harry said, not quite comprehending to what her words truly meant. She did not sound upset at all that she would not get to have a second of her husband's time. Her tone held a bit of uncertainty, like she was debating on a choice. It left Harry curious and confused. From what he has seen during the week, Hermione and Ron looked to be in good terms with all the smiles and the laughter that would uproar whenever they shared an inside joke between them. They looked like the same happy married couple they used to be, Harry had thought sourly, but then quickly catch himself and cursed at himself for being too unsupportive. No matter how much the stabbing feeling gnawing in his chest hurts him, he should feel happy that his best friends were able to resolve all conflicts to make their marriage work.

"Make no mistake, Harry, it's not all bad," Hermione continued. "I think it's a good thing for us to spend some time apart and get used to having some space from each other…you know, get some diversity under our belts."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. _Diversity? I'm confused. What does she mean by that? She doesn't sound too sad about spending time apart from Ron. Wasn't she upset before because she and Ron couldn't seem to function together anymore? Didn't she want to be able to recommit to her family? Is this normal behavior? I don't think it is. I'm probably overanalyzing all of this._

Soft breathing met with him through the silence in the other end. Hermione was waiting for him to speak. But Harry couldn't think of anything conventional to say.

"I'm…not sure what you mean," he admitted.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just rambling again," Hermione responded with what Harry assumed to be a forced laugh. "I must be more tired than I'm letting on."

"Yeah, that's probably it."

"You should get back to bed before Ginny wakes up to find you gone."

"Yeah. You too. With Ron, I mean."

"I'm sure he hasn't even noticed me gone. I can still hear him snoring all the way from the room."

Harry frowned deeply but kept his tone playfully and nice as he spoke out, "Ah, you wore him out, huh?"

"Yeah, sure…something like that," Hermione said. "Anyway, try to have a good sleep, Harry."

"G'night, Hermione. And sorry again for waking you up so late."

"Just try to do it at a more reasonable time next time, and on a day when Hugo doesn't have school in the morning. The phone caused such a ruckus that I'm surprised he hasn't come down yet."

"I will."

"Good night, Harry."

"G'night, Hermione."

And then the phone line went dead. Hermione had hung up on her end but Harry still held his by his ear, listening to the beeping replacing to the husky voice he was enthralled in a few seconds ago. He could not find it in him to let it go – he didn't want to hang up. But he knew he had to because no matter how he looked at it, he couldn't keep Hermione away from her husband, her eternal lover, just like he couldn't wait for Ginny to see him not at her side. Harry then puts the phone back in place. He wished he was tired because he knew in the next few hours will be tough for him; He is most likely to drive Lily to school again since he was still on leave. He will be standing in a long session when he is present at Hermione's hearing. The last time he was in her position was before his fifth year and his hearing lasted less than twenty minutes but he had been to plenty others of different wizards and witches, standing there as guard, and he learned they're originally three to five hours long until it came to a close.

Three to five hours…

That is how long he will be standing in the same room as Hermione. He should not find too much importance to it when they have shared many times alone before but he hadn't been able to have a moment alone with her ever since he came back. He never voiced it; he always noticed that Hermione would be careful to how close she is with him and watch for the placement of her hands around him. It was like she was scared to get burned by him. He would see her act like herself, all normal and natural, then when Ginny enters the room, she would suddenly transition into a reserved girl, keeping her arms tucked to herself, and speak once in a while. She would only ever be this way whenever he and Ginny were together but when she is alone with Ron and Ginny, she was herself. He was not mistaking it – he had watched from afar when he was playing with the kids.

Harry stopped his head quickly when he felt like he was getting a migraine from thinking too much in such a late night. He was not tired but he needed to try to sleep. He had too many thoughts about Ginny and Hermione running around erratically for one night. He quickly turned away from the phone and hastily walked back up the stairs, feeling that knowing he had just spoken to Hermione on the phone was causing him such restlessness. Her voice was still echoing in her head – the fact he was going to see her – to hear her again – in a few hours has such a heavy impact on him that he wondered how he is still breathing properly.

When he got back in his bedroom, Ginny had moved to his side of the bed. She was clutching on his pillow, her nose buried in the coziness, her red hair fallen over her shoulders and splayed across the middle of her back. The bed sheets have slipped down to the back of her knees, showing of the glory of her nightgown hugging her attractive figure – slender sides, curvy thighs, and a broad back. She looked like an angel enjoying the soft luxury of a cloud.

Harry carefully crawled into bed behind her without disturbing her slumber and went to reach for the sheets. But as soon as he pulled it over them, his movement made a high creak that had Harry grimace and caused Ginny to stir somewhat awake.

"Mm, what are you doing?" she slurred tiredly, blindly looking at him over her shoulder with dazed eyes.

"Just had to go to the loo," he lied, figuring that was the easiest way to go. "Go back to sleep."

Ginny smiled sleepily at him before she dropped her head onto the pillow and drifted off to sleep again. Harry made himself comfortable, sliding one arm over her waist and using the other as his own pillow, then he sighed deeply. The room seemed darker to him now. He still didn't feel tired. He was envious at how Ginny was able to fall back to sleep so quickly, so easily, while he was struggling to maintain his eyes closed.

And he knew why he couldn't; he did not feel right. Holding Ginny, a body he has come to familiarize for so many years of intimacy and affection, did not feel right anymore. He could not sleep knowing this. He can feel his finger caressing over the curve of her waist yet he could not sense him touching her. His mind was conjuring up another body for him to feel, one that had been knocked into his with forced hugs and simple brushes on the knuckles, one that was fuller to show it bared children yet well proportioned, and the back was covered in a bush of wild, tangled curls that seemed like a nest, colored like one too.

Harry kept the image fresh in his mind as he closed his eyes and buried his face in Ginny's hair.

She was not there with him but he will dream he is holding Hermione tonight.

* * *

The first thing Harry heard when he opened his eyes again was the gentle, soft piano being played beautifully in a faint distance. It sounded awfully close.

He was standing alone in a long, gloomy hallway. It was dull in color but was seeable by old-fashioned has lamps dimly lit, showing the peeling wallpaper and damp carpet. The chandelier's light could not seem to give enough glow by the thousand layers of cobwebs embracing it and the old crooked portraits were too blackened for the picture to be seen. The lovely melody continued, only it seem to have gotten louder and clearer.

Harry followed it willingly, too captivated in how it made his ears vibrate in delight. He paid no attention to the long curtains consumed by moths or to the disturbing umbrella stand that looked like it was carved out of a severed troll's leg, as he focused on the sound, listening to it intently to find which direction it was coming from. It was haunting, going along with the depressive atmosphere lingering on the walls, but it gave him a rush of euphoria. He felt as if he heard it before but he could not quite put his finger on it. He knew the instrument was a piano but the melody, the enchanting piece was foreign.

Suddenly, the spell broke; the majestic sound had stopped altogether when a blood-curling, ear-shattering screech wailing from the floors below: "Disgrace - filthy blood traitor - stains of society – spawns of filth – scums!"

It wasn't even a second that passed until the hallway was filled with shrilly screams and vulgarity that Harry had to clamp his hands over his ears. He was about to turn around to halt the painful noises when he heard loud stomping come from behind him then he felt a presence pass through him like a spirit and soon he found himself staring the back of Ron's ginger hair as he trudged down towards the noise, grumbling grumpily. His head disappeared a second later whilst he descended down the stairs.

"Try not to make too much noise, Ron!" another voice warn quietly, although Harry doubt Ron heard her because a moment later, a hard banging was ricocheting off the walls and Ron was heard reciting the stunning spell frequently, halting the voices one by one.

"I don't think he heard you," Harry heard his own voice say, except he sound younger, more innocent.

"Obviously," the other voice sighed; Harry noticed that this one was from a young girl. "I'll go and get him before he drills a hole."

"Let him have his fun, Hermione, he's been caged up in here for a while," Harry protested. "This is probably the most entertainment he's had in a long time. Who knows how long he's been wanting to do that to that annoying portrait."

"I suppose."

Harry followed the voice from the corner where he assumed Ron came out of and he cautiously entered the room that came to view. He saw recognizable the high-ceiling, olive green walls of the drawing room in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place with the carpets were covered in many blankets of dust and the tapestries looked to be drenched in filth. The moss green velvets curtains were gone, torn off, along with the infestation of Doxycide, from the time when Mrs. Weasley had made him and the others decontaminate the place and make the environment more homey.

Sitting on one of the couches was a seventeen-year-old Harry Potter, clothes rumpled from long naps, eyes baggy from lack of rest, and hair messier than usual from no care of a brush. He was still as a stone whilst he stared at the Golden Snitch hover in front of him, its wings rapidly fluttering and buzzing noisily. On the far end of the room, in the corner, was an eighteen-year-old Hermione Granger, sitting on a creaking bench in front of a rusty piano, her fingers effortlessly moving along the keys in a complicated flow as the notes played gently, amorously. It was then that Harry realized the piece he had been spellbound to was actually Hermione playing the piano.

He never realized there was a piano in the house until Hermione had pulled off the sheet that was covering it and cleaned the fine blanket of dust. It didn't make much of a difference to the once grand instrument but it was enough to show that it was in good condition despite not being used for so many years. There was rust at some spots, mostly on the keys, which surprised Harry that they were able to still play well, and one of the legs were shorter than the rest that Hermione needed to use a loose brick to even it out.

Harry stood next to the instrument watching her as she lost herself in the lullaby she must have composed herself. A slight smile painted on her chapped lips and her eyes somewhat hooded as she trailed after her hands, seeing them go over the other or spread apart to not miss a note. He had never seen Hermione so into something that is not related to school; he found that he liked seeing this side of her. All gone to the tender music, actually forgetting about what troubles she was tangled in, letting herself to be drifted away in the deep wonders of her mind with the resounding piano keys under her fingertips. She was distracting herself from the pressuring stress like Ron was letting out steam by banging the portraits shut.

"Where did you learn to play?" Younger Harry's voice cracked through the serenity of the music, making Hermione to lose her composure and accidentally slam her hands on the keys. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said awkwardly; Older Harry saw himself staring at Hermione interestingly, the Snitch's wings tucked in while he held it between his fingers.

"No, no, you didn't," Hermione said sheepishly, turning on the bench to face Harry properly. She had a light blush on her cheeks. "I was just mucking around, trying to fill in the silence and all that. It's really nothing."

Older Harry watched as Younger Harry stood from the sofa and approached Hermione at the piano, staring at the keys with curious eyes. Older Harry grinned. He remembered that while they were waiting for the old Black family house elf, Kreacher, to return with the locket (the Horcrux), he had been looking for a distraction when he decided to listen in on Hermione's playing until he was suddenly slowly catching interest in it. The want to be the one to play the instrument grew and grew the longer Hermione played. He never touched a musical piece before in his life and to be in the same room as one, to be able to see one in use in front of him, it was irresistible.

"Where did you learn to play?" repeated Younger Harry.

Hermione then seemed meek at the sudden attention. "Oh, um, I didn't really learn it anywhere per se – I actually self-taught myself to play."

"How'd you manage that?"

"My father's side of the family is very musical," Hermione explained. "Different generations – different instruments. My grandfather is the one who showed me the piano. He would play it all the time whenever I visit him. He taught my father to play too."

"Are all the men in your family the only ones who are musically involved?" Younger Harry asked.

Hermione paused for a minute to ponder thoroughly. "Now that I think about it – yes, most of the males play instruments. Funny, I never thought about until you mentioned it. I guess you could say it's a family tradition."

"Your father never taught you?"

"No. I suppose the tradition only holds for males. My uncle taught my cousins to play the cello and the violin when they were around nine year's old."

"Is that why you decided to teach yourself to play? So you can be like them?"

Hermione shook her head. "Oh no. I've wanted to play the piano ever since I saw my grandfather. I would listen to a piece – memorize the sound and the order it goes in – then I would try to play it when I'm alone. My father didn't teach me but he did give me the same music sheets I was trying to learn."

"Sounds complicated," said Younger Harry.

"It really isn't – come! I'll show you!" Hermione said excitedly, taking Harry by the arm and eagerly pulling him down on the bench next to her before she turned to face the keys.

Older Harry watched in amusement as Harry had stuffed the Snitch in his pocket and straightened himself beside her, sending an exasperated look at the brunette witch. She ignored it; she was too ecstatic to be able to teach. Harry figured she must have already missed that about the school – to be able to learn, to teach, to be taught new things. It was part of Hermione's nature to face a different challenge in the familiar sights of Hogwarts campus so for her to be locked up in a glum place as Grimmauld Place with no fresh faces or the smell of books, she must feel upset, and for her to help Harry learn how to play the piano was a distraction away from her sadness just like it is for him.

"I'm going to teach you the first piece I've learned. _Frederic Chopin's Nocturne Number Three Twenty_ in C sharp minor. Try holding your hands and spread out your fingers – good, Harry, now put each one on a key but don't press – excellent!" instructed Hermione, watching Harry in delight as he complied. "Now try pressing down your fore fingers and your index finger," she added.

Harry did as she requested but ended pressing down all of his fingers together, creating a loud bell-ringing, off-key sound to thrum throughout the room, and making them cringe. Even Older Harry's ears hurt.

"Oops," Younger Harry said.

"That's all right, it's only the first try," Hermione reassured with a chuckle. She then moved her hands to place them on top of Harry's, her fingers gliding over his. "Try not to think about it – no, in fact, don't think with your hands at all. Just let them go through the motion and you just think about the music."

"How can I let my hands do the motion if I don't even know how the music sounds like?" Harry questioned incredulously.

"Just like you did when you first flew on a broom," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "You didn't know anything about it but you went on with the motions on instinct – you didn't think about how you should fly or where you needed to go. All you thought about was getting Neville's Remembrall, remember?"

Older Harry smiled as he sees his younger self stare at Hermione in amazement, easily in awe at her incredible way of using flying as an analogy for him. Hermione did not notice his stare. She was busy trying to get him to move his fingers separately and to grow accustomed to it. Harry never knew until now that despite listening to her and feeling her demonstrate, he had been staring at her instead. He can see why he did; the way she was passionately talking about something she loved with the wide smile and the shine in her eyes glimmering in joy was absolutely captivating. He always saw her frazzled and determined when it came to assignments and exams that he hardly saw this calmer, sedated side of hers for the last seven years he's known her. It was a rare sight for him – he felt like he was looking at an exotic creature for the first time.

"Did you get that?" asked Hermione, and Younger Harry was quick to turn away from her when she looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah," he murmured awkwardly; Older Harry laughed.

"Try playing the first five notes I just showed you – remember, don't think with your hands," Hermione said. "See it as Quidditch – you're not thinking about flying your broom – you want the Snitch."

Harry nodded wordlessly. He took a deep breath before he moved his fingers. Older Harry tried not to grimace as he listened to himself play horribly the first few keys. It did not sound exquisite like he looked like when he was flying but it was better than the brain-rattling sound he made earlier. He felt a bit self-conscious when he played in front of Hermione; he was clumsy and inexperienced in such a masterpiece like the piano unlike her who had spent years perfecting herself to such a proficient level. But Hermione never seemed bothered by it. She looked more at peace than ever.

When Younger Harry did the last note, he immediately slipped his hands onto his lap, a bit self-conscious, and Hermione gave him a light nudge on the side.

"That was really good," she told him.

"That was horrible," Harry countered. "It sounded like a screeching cat."

"You're just starting, Harry," Hermione pointed out. "These things take time."

"Yeah, I guess."

Hermione frowned. "Would…would you like to learn something simpler? How about we try _Fur Elise_? That's a beautiful one."

"How does it go?" Harry asked.

For a moment Hermione looked astonished by his question then realization dawned over her face a second later. She must have remembered about their conversation from their first year, about how isolated his childhood was.

"I'll show you," she volunteered quietly before strongly adding, "But you best listen to it very well if you want to learn. I meant it when I said it's beautiful."

Harry smiled amusingly at her. "I'm sure it is. Can you play it already?"

Hermione gave him a playful glare before she turned to the keys and inhaled deeply, much to both Harry's amusement. She always seem to take a moment to internally encourage herself whenever she is going to perform a task, like she was willing herself to not be nervous. He had noticed it after their third year when Hermione was practicing the Patronus Charm and the boggart revealed her fear of failing. From that moment on, Harry would see Hermione ready herself before she would raise a hand or try a new spell or brew up a potion. She was scared of doing horribly, even in front of her own best friends, and he wondered what it is that made her want to be so educated rightly.

And then Hermione's fingers finally glided across the rusted ivory and Harry was drawn into a state of mind as a composition so sweetly addictive, so outstandingly foreign, surrounded him in a bubble of no worries, shielding him away from the silence outside. The piece sounded simple but the way how Hermione moved her fingers made it seem so complex to follow, the sheer beauty of the sound sending shivers down his spine, making him sway lightly on the bench and his eyes close on their own accord.

Older Harry never knew he had reacted in such a way towards this kind of music.

And then there is the way Hermione was playing the piano; she was obviously pouring all of her heart into the movement of her flexing fingers and she was no longer there spiritually. She looked like she was doing more than just listening to the song. Her eyes were glassy but there were no tears and her gaze was distant from her, like her soul had floated out of her and went away with the fading notes into the dark of the house. She was feeling the music. She must have played this classical composition many times because she had not missed a bit, not even a tremble of hesitation can be heard, as the song continued to flow without interruption, much to both Harry's pleasure. He could feel the impatience and the growing frustration from his younger self leak out of him, replacing it with the easy feel of a lying in an open meadow and enjoying the spring breeze, as Hermione composed. It felt like he was sleeping on an open field made of a thousand caressing feathers.

Older Harry could see his younger self being drifted away like a small boat floating away to sea, lightly swaying to the sides along with the rhythm of the song like it was the waves of the oceanic water. That is how he felt at this moment. He felt he was leaving behind his old life, going away on a boat and letting the lazy current of the open waters take him to where it would like to while he slept through the whole sail, catching up to the years of rest he has lost by nightmares and visions. The sensation of water tickling wood under his back gave the ache of his muscles a relaxing vibrating that would make him sag lazily, shutting down his arms and legs to slumber. He was swimming far from his problems, floating deeper into an imaginary land where he could live –

 _CRACK!_

His almost perfect fantasy was shattered and buckled down like glass at the snapping noise coming from within the piano, the sound representing a gunshot shooting down his dream. Older Harry saw Younger Harry wake up from his dreamless state, jerking into awareness, and he hopped to his feet as he glanced around him crazily, his arm held out with his hand clutching his wand shakily.

"Calm down, Harry, there's no trouble," said Hermione, rising up from the bench and walking around the piano; Older Harry moved from his spot next to it out of instinct, even though he knew she cannot feel him as she is part of his memory. "I think a string just snapped," she murmured as she opened the piano and set in the stand to keep it from falling.

Younger Harry visibly relaxed in relief and pocketed his wand as he walked to her side. He watched helpless as she hunched over to lean into the instrument and started digging through the webs and dust bunnies.

"You know how to fix a piano?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Hermione chuckled in the piano. "Not really. My father was more of the handyman of the house. Besides you can't fix a broken string – you have to replace it. Fortunately, we have magic." A few rattles and thudding were heard within the piano. "Aha! Harry, can you hand me my wand? I left it on the bench."

Younger Harry did as she politely requested and when he returned to her side, he had to lean against the instrument to reach his arm inside to hand it to her.

"Cheers," said Hermione as Harry straightened himself. " _Reparo!"_

Older Harry stood behind them, mesmerized. For a second, he was able to see through the perspective of the people outside of their friendship, finally understanding what is what that other people saw. The way how they moved together was almost too natural. There was a warm domestic atmosphere swirling around them, which was probably why they were able to be at ease in spite of the hectic chaos they were stuck in together. They were protected in a molting house that did not hold the old magic it once had but they were able to enjoy the quiet evening together, just playing a rusty instrument, with no need of constant excitement to not feel bored. They always find entertainment in the smallest of things despite what situation they are in or what condition their friendship suffers through.

He always thought it was for publicity and to gain more money but seeing how he is with Hermione, he could picture what is was that Rita Skeeter was selling. He can understand why Viktor Krum was asking him what his relationship with Hermione was. He can see now why Cho Chang was acting so sour and defensive towards his friendship with Hermione. He could figure out why Dumbledore was curious about the type of bond he shared with Hermione. And he could comprehend why Ron was always so jealous about him and Hermione.

"That should do it," murmured Hermione as she pulled back from inside the piano, took the stand off, and then gingerly closed it. She turned to Harry with the same eager glim in her eyes from before. "Ready to try again? Don't think I forgot."

"I never said you –" Harry suddenly stopped; his face screwed tightly as his nose bunched up, and he quickly turned away from Hermione the moment he gasped in a quick air then, " _ACHOO!_ "

Older Harry was trembling in disgust because his younger self had turned towards him when he sneezed, but then he reminded himself that he was fine, that this was a memory, and he had no spittle on him. It was just the thought of being targeted that disturbed him.

"Oh, bless you," Hermione said with an amused smirk.

"Cheers," Harry sniffed as he rubbed his now ruby red nose with the back of his hand and snorted. "Blasted dust. Maybe we should finish what Mrs. Weasley started in the meantime we're here."

"You know they believe, in Japan, if you sneeze it's because someone is talking about you," Hermione said, smiling knowingly. "Someone must be speaking highly of you."

Harry stared at her incredulously. "They believe that?"

"Every culture has their beliefs," Hermione told him. She went around the piano and perched herself on the bench again, looking up at Harry expectedly. He must have read the hidden demand as he walked to sit beside her again.

"Do you believe you can get me to play the piano?" he mused.

"I believe if you try then it's possible." Hermione took Harry's hands before he could comprehend what she was doing and then she placed them on the keys, lettings hers glide above his fingers, shaking lightly, but Harry never noticed it. She started to guide his hands. "Let's try memorizing the keys first – you need to be able to know the difference between an A minor to a C sharp – when you know what note to play then you will have to learn how to not to move your fingers at the same time – try not to think about moving them – then –"

"What's going on here?"

Harry and Hermione looked up from the keys, as well as Older Harry turned towards the entryway of the drawing room, where he saw Ron had just entered the room, having finished silencing the portraits below. He had a foul sneer lingering on them, mostly as Harry's direction. His wand was shaking in his tight grasp, the tendons in his bare arms popping out clearly. Older Harry had to look away from the sight, not wanting to remember his best friend in that way again.

"Oh Ron," said Hermione awkwardly, her voice a bit high-pitched, as she slipped her hands off of Harry's. "Finished with the portraits?"

"Almost blasted a whole into that old hag," Ron muttered. "She wouldn't shut up."

He shoved his wand in his back pocket then he approached the piano to examine it, lightly running a finger along the cracked edges, and glanced back at the two who were watching him apprehensively. Older Harry was sharing their eyes as well. Although he knew what was coming next, the suspension mixed with anxiety in the air was still able to clog up his throat. Whenever Ron would act so still, too calm for his own good, it would wake up Harry's defensive reflexes instinctively, almost like he was expecting a brawl to break out. He usually saves such behavior towards his enemies like Draco Malfoy or those who oppose him for being a blood traitor so when Ron started to act that way around him during the Horcrux hunt, he actually feared his life around the ginger male more than the war itself.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, eyeing at the close proximity between his best friend's hands. Younger Harry had noticed the gaze and slid his hands onto his lap.

"She was teaching me how to play," he answered carefully. "Just a couple of notes, nothing big."

"I want to learn," Ron said, frowning.

"Oh, um, I'm sort of teaching Harry right now, Ron," Hermione began. "Maybe I could –"

"It's fine," Harry interrupted hastily as he rose from the bench. "I need to stretch out my legs anyway – you know, take a look around the house and see if there's anything useful while we wait for Kreacher. There's got to be something in this house."

"Oh," murmured Hermione; Older Harry saw that she looked disappointed as she watched him start towards the corner, never taking her eyes off of his retreating back, even when Ron took his place next to her on the bench. "Don't wander off too far, Harry! Stay close where we can hear you! If you find anything, call us immediately, you hear?"

"I heard you!" Harry called back before he disappeared around the corner.

As soon as he saw Younger Harry's step pass the threshold, everything started to dissolve. The peeled wallpaper, the ruined furniture, the dusted carpet, and the torn tapestries all molded together, shrinking smaller – smaller – until it disappeared into an endless void of black. Everything about Grimmauld Place disappeared to oblivion but Harry could still feel himself stoned as if he was rooted to a ground. He was still asleep or remembering – he was not sure what it is. The last time he remembered seeing such a colorless view was when he took his last breath during his encounter with Voldemort in the forest.

Then he heard it – a laugh. It was sweet and free. It circled around him like a Snitch in the Quidditch pitch, bouncing around him continuously whilst he listened. Above, below, or to the sides, his ears would follow it because was too glorious to ignore. It sounded like it was getting away from him as it started to get softer. Harry shook his head – he did not want it to leave.

It started again and it came from a far distance behind him. He tried to turn to it but he couldn't move. His body stayed stuck as a rigid sculpture. The laugh was getting gentler, almost sounding like a hum now. Harry frantically tried to move again, wanting to follow it down the everlasting path to wherever it may or may not be, wanting to find it. Yet he was nothing but a stone. He could feel his skin suddenly turn frigid; from the tip of his fingers to the last strand of hair on his hair, he felt like he was being frozen alive.

The laugh was too far when Harry heard it again and this time it had said a name. It wasn't his name. It said the name of his best friend, Ronald Weasley. The cold of his frozen skin had formed a lump in his heart, icing it into an internal blizzard. He could feel himself wanting to run, to escape from the laughter now but his legs were disobedient. The laugh was coming around frequently; it was too far or Harry's liking but he was slowly breaking as it continued to chortle out Ron's name. It was urging the redhead to continue trying – Harry did not want him to.

"No Ron – go like this! Yes, but more gentle!"

Finally, as if lightning struck him, Harry realized what it was he was remembering; it was the sheer joy that was being shared between Ron and Hermione over the piano he had heard from one of the rooms in the house. He had blocked out their excessing noises because he was starting to feel lonely listening to it. They reminded him how truly lonely he was. They were on the quest with him but they were together and he was just a person on the side hanging onto them like a lifeline to escape from utter isolation.

He didn't really have anyone. He had broken up with Ginny and he had no way to contact her - The Weasleys were out protecting their own - The Order was rebelling against Voldemort's followers - Sirius was dead – he was on his own.

He was in a house occupied with two of his best friends, two people he will forever love even after death. But he wasn't really accompanied by them.

Ron and Hermione had each other. They could confide in the other for comfort, to lean on each other shoulder for strength, to wipe their tears away, and to bring a smile out of each other once in a while when needed.

Just like now, they were in the drawing room sharing a moment, sharing laughs and making the best memories out of the worst scenario. And Harry was not part of it.

He was having that a few minutes ago with Hermione. The amusement he felt to see her break out of her reserved shell when she saw the opportune moment to properly show the ways of a hidden hobby she loved with him. The content view of her playing the piano bringing him to a dreamlike ride. And her showing the extent of her knowledge in Asian culture was extraordinary.

But then Ron came to have it all to himself. To take everything part of Hermione to himself. And Harry did not fight it because he knew everything about Hermione, part of Hermione, and connected to Hermione was meant to be Ron's. He chose her a long time ago to be his and he had worked years in his own odd way to keep her to himself.

Yet Harry had felt a hint of regret to have let go of Hermione to Ron so soon because when he heard them enjoying their company shamelessly, he couldn't help but want to have Hermione to himself a little longer.

* * *

Harry's eyes flew open.

He lay flat on his back, his breathing labor as though he had return from running a marathon. He was shivering violently, even with the bed sheet laid over him providing him the warm against the cool air of the house, and he was gasping. His face felt moist; he ran a hand over and then combed his hair back, noticing it was damp from sweat. His skin felt incredibly warm – too much for him to withstand. He kicked off the sheets, one hand automatically reaching out for his glasses on the bedside table, and the other pressing down in his forehead to feel his temperature as he plucked on his glasses. He tried to slow down his heart.

His bedroom was glowing in a pink-orange color from the light coming in through his open window. He could have sworn it was closed when he went to bed last night. He looked at the clock beside him and his eyes nearly bulged out in shocked at the time glaring back at him – six-forty-seven. He quickly scrambled out of bed, dragging the bed sheets with his foot, as he crossed the room towards his wardrobe and started to bring out his more presentable robes. He vaguely noticed that his mind had not broken apart from the vivid dream of his, still to latched to the emotions that were brought on by it. He tried to shake it off as he hastily got dressed, went to the joined bathroom to get his toothbrush with toothpaste, and raced his way downstairs, fighting the urge to glance back at the clock again.

He was harshly brushing his teeth when he entered the kitchen, where he found Lily and Teddy having a respectable breakfast. They looked up at his entrance and watched in stunned silence as he went across the room to the sink to spit, rinse, then repeat. Once he was done, he approached the counter they were sitting on to grab an uneaten toast from Teddy's plate and a quick sip of his glass of fresh orange juice.

"Um, good morning?" said Teddy exasperatedly as Harry took another large bite of toast.

"G'murnin," Harry replied through a mouthful, a few crumbs spilling out.

Lily scowled in disgust. "Ew! Daddy, that's gross!" she squealed, inching back from her father.

Harry swallowed with a gasp. "Sorry, sweetie, I'm in bit of a rush right now. I'm sort of late for your Auntie's hearing."

"Ooh, she's going to jinx you," Lily teased with a sly grin that belonged to her mother's.

"Merlin, I hope not." Harry turned to his godson. "Ted, you think you can take Lily to school? The keys are on the hook by the front door," he said desperately whilst he walked towards the exit, kissing Lily on the head along the way. "Behave today at school, sweetheart."

"You really trust me with your car?" Teddy asked in disbelief.

Harry halted by the frame and looked back nervously. "You have your license, right?"

"No – I wasn't planning to do any driving when I came over. I left all of the important essential back in Romania," Teddy answered flatly.

Harry hesitated, then glanced back at his daughter who was looking innocent and unfazed as she ate her breakfast, before he looked back at his godson and sternly said, "Drive within the speed limit."

Teddy grinned. "I will, promise. Now get out of here or you're never hear the end of it from Mum-Ne!"

Harry launched away from the kitchen before Teddy could finish his sentence and he stormed outside of his home. He stepped over the rolled up morning mail as he closed the door behind him. He could see the paperboy riding down the street on his bike, tossing morning papers at the neighbor's porches like he does every day at the crack of dawn, but aside from him Harry does not see any other person in sight. Not even Ms. Wither's was out tending her garden. He can safely assume that everyone have gone to work or were still asleep

Harry glanced around the neighborhood, look at every closed window, screen door, and backyard for any signs of life before he braced himself.

He soon felt himself swirling rapidly in air and the familiar crack thundered in the morning silence as he disapparated.

* * *

Harry had gotten used to having eyes watching him in many ways – astonishment, lustily, in awe, suspiciously, curiously, and intrigued – but he still didn't like it.

The moment his arrival in the Atrium was announced by the crack of his Apparation, heads of employers and visitors turned his way but he paid no attention to them as he sped his way through the collective groups and their wondering eyes to the lifts. He noticed that the wave of chatter was being drowned out by silence the more people realize his presence in the Ministry and it seem to follow after his trail towards the lifts, like there were ghosts flowing along behind him. For a moment Harry thought there were but he chose to go against his instinct to look behind him and continue to weave past the pestering people.

Harry had not set foot in the Ministry ever since the day he confronted the press in front of them. All traces of him have disappeared. It was no doubt that word about his temporary leave was spoken among department to department and it was still a fresh topic even when it was weeks old. He wondered if maybe it was one of the reasons why Hermione felt lonely without him. She would probably hear people talk about him in hushed tones and then they would quiet down when they see her march past them, knowing she has close relations with him. He hoped not. He would like to think that she felt alone because she was used to seeing him in the corridors and he would accompany her for lunch, not because people would avoid her like a plague.

The long, wide hallway seemed never-ending for Harry. He was not sure if it was because he hadn't walked along the same polished, dark wood floor in a while that he might have forgotten the distance from the Apparation zones to the lifts or if it was because of the throng of people in his way, stopping in mid-step to stare at him bewildered, making him change direction towards his destination. Eventually, he could hear noise returning to the place, but in low whispers and quiet conversations, but he did not really care – he just wanted to hear anything that isn't his feet thudding on the floor.

"What do you think he's here –" Harry caught a witch say, someone he recalled to work with Mr. Weasley in his department.

" – thought he resigned after Grumps died," said a wizard this time to his companion as Harry slipped through the current of Ministry workers, trying to not knock out their neatly tucked stacks of parchment or bump their briefcases. He saw one wizard, who was reading the Muggle section of the _Daily Prophet_ , had taken out a Sickle and flicked it in the fountain without glancing at it. Harry wanted to add his donations but he had forgotten his wallet at home during his rush.

" – else is going to die for –"

Harry shut out the rest of the world. Shortly, he was able to reach the lifts and entered into the lonely one out of all twenty. Several witches and wizards were curiously looking his way as they walked past his lift; he stood a firm ground, staring back at them, as the grilles slid shut hard and the lift shot away from the busied crowd. As uncomfortable he was from the unwanted attention, he will not walk with his head down like they expected him to do – they wanted that – he was not going to give them to them.

Harry was standing at the very back of the lift and he chose to close his eyes and lean his head back as the chains rattled and the lift shook by the speed it went in. He waited and waited, mostly secretly impatient, as the cool female voice announced each floor he stopped by; "Level Seven: Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club and Ludicrous Patents Office - Level Six: Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office and Apparation Test Centre - Level Five: Department of International Magical Co-operation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats - Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee - Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services."

Harry immediately got off the lift once he heard his floor and casually fast walked down of the corridor he has worked in for years. Heavy sunlight was beaming through the clear windows – Magical Maintenance must be in a good mood today. He turned to the corner and walked through the same heavy oak doors he has seen in his mornings daily, a wave of longing pulsating in him as he sees the same divided cubicles full of animated talk and laughter. And the lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle reading AUROR HEADQUARTERS made him sad. This was his workplace – his source of motivation – these men and women were his comrades – this was his life.

Harry stopped to look through the doorway. He could see them acting around like they were students in a classroom waiting for their professor. Drinking coffee, discussing about the latest news in their lives or taking their free time to talk to their desk neighbor. He could see glimpses inside their cubicle, catching patches of family photographs, Quidditch posters, and wanted criminal posters. He should be in there, basking in the atmosphere of professional officers yet close companions he would give respect to and receive. But he was practically banned from there until he was 'cured'.

"Harry!"

From the second set of oak door stood Mr. Weasley, his balding red hair the most that stood out among the cubicles. He was waving and beaming at him. His call made a couple of the Aurors to face him, surprised eyebrows raised but Harry did not pay attention to them. Harry returned the gesture as he watched Mr. Weasley made a bee-line towards him, the morning buzz dying down the more Aurors stopped talking to stare at them. When Mr. Weasley reached him, he immediately pulled Harry in a fatherly love he had grown used to getting.

"It's great to have you back," Mr. Weasley said ecstatically as he lets go of Harry. "How've you been?"

"I've been good," Harry answered. "I'm not back – I'm here for a hearing. Hermione's hearing."

"Ahh yes," Mr. Weasley said, frowning, as he ran a hand through what's left of his hair. "I heard about that. Heard it from Ginny. Poor girl – I hope they go easy on her. Being a counselor of the Wizengamot and getting a hearing from the same people is a rare thing. Last one who had one of those didn't get such a light punishment to teach them to be a more of a responsible figure."

Harry raised a brow. "Did Ginny tell you why?"

"She was vague about it," said Mr. Weasley. "But she said something about Hermione using magic on a Muggle."

Harry nodded. He was not sure why Ginny was speaking about Hermione's hearing to her parents. He knew he did not like it. He felt like he was exposing her even though Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had every right to be concern over their children, related or not. But Hermione did not speak about it too much unless she was in the living room at the Potter Cottage with the same people who were there when she got her Howler, and Harry knew she had not spoken to her mother or to her in-laws so learning that Ginny had revealed something so personal to his best friend actually angered him a bit.

"I'm sure Hermione will be fine," Mr. Weasley told him.

"She will be," Harry agreed. He mostly said it to himself. He wanted to believe his words. "Anyway Mr. Weasley, I need to get going. I'm actually a witness for Hermione's hearing and I can't be late for it."

"You do that," Mr. Weasley said. "I have to be on my way anyway. Something about a sink sucking in a Muggle's hand in South London."

Harry's imagination conjured up the picture of an unknown Muggle screaming in agony as they tried to pull their finger, possibly broken and cracked at the bone, out of the faucet, and he grimaced.

"Good luck with that."

"You too. And tell Hermione I send her my best wishes."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it, thank you."

Harry gave Mr. Weasley a light clap on his shoulder before he turned away and walked down the corridor as Mr. Weasley went the opposite way towards the lifts. When he made it to the second set of lifts, he stepped inside and pressed on the number nine button then waited impatiently. He remembered two years after he was promoted Head Auror, that the bill to construct a new lift operation for a shorter route to the courtrooms has been passed and it was less than a month after the news that Harry would see this lift outside of his area of work every time he clocked in or clocked out. It was mostly useful for the lawyers and counselors in Hermione's area but he would use it be present for a Death Trial as security.

"Department of Mysteries," announced the female voice and the lift skids to a halt.

Harry sped forward in the bare corridor as soon as the doors rattled open and took a sharp left that nearly made him twist his ankle. He almost trip over when he sprinted down the level of stairs downwards but he gradually regained his speed once he was in the other corridor, the fire in the bracketed torches flickering as he raced past them. For a second he was flashed back to the time of his hearing before his fifth year as he looked at the plaques next to the doors.

"Three…Five…Seven!"

Harry paused in front of the same door he stepped in many times before, took a moment to regain his breath and tidy up his appearance – stretching out the wrinkles in his robes, tucking in the tail of his shirt – before he turned the heavy iron door handle and stepped inside the courtroom. As he slowly closed the door, he heard the familiar voice of Kingsley speaking rather dully from beneath the archway he was in, along with several murmurs that did not belong to him, and Harry listened in carefully. He glanced looked deeper into the courtroom and he could see Hermione seated on the chair in the center; he was glad to see the chains were not binding her.

"Hearing of the fifteenth of October into offences under the International Statue of Secrecy by Hermione Jean Granger, Deputy Head of the Magical Law Enforcement, Head of the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures, Founder of SPEW, and Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," recited Kingsley. "Interrogators, Kingsley Shacklebot: Minister for Magic – Olivia Mark: Second Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – Katherine Thorn: Junior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe –"

"Witness for the defense: Harry James Potter, Head of the Auror Department," declared Harry from under the archway behind Hermione, who turned her head quickly at the sound of his voice. He marched in a posture that he hoped seemed imitating to them and kept his face calm in a neutral expression as he stared up at the fifty faces, though once blank from emotion, now painted in surprise at his appearance. From the corner of his eye, he can see Hermione beaming at him and he was glad he could give her that feeling of security and relief so easily.

The other members started to talk quietly among themselves. One wizard in the very back room stood and was waving at him excitedly. Harry recognized the overly-enthusiastic one to be Gerald – he must be here for moral support.

"Ah," said Kingsley, who looked more relieved than annoyed like the others. "Auror Potter, so happy for you to join us. I was beginning to think you didn't get the owl I sent you a few days ago. I never got a reply."

"I apologize for that, Minister, but I'm under order for manners much personal," replied Harry in the same pleasant tone that Kingsley was using. "I'm sure you know and understand of my reasons for being so busy."

"Yes, I do," Kingsley nodded with a hidden smile. Then he took out his wand and gave it a little flick towards Hermione's direction; the floor had opened up and a chair similar to hers, with no chains, rose up. "Please sit."

Harry obliged, locked his fingers together, and kept his face unmoved. The Wizengamot was frequently talking in low voices; others were staring down at him unkindly. Kingsley was shuffling through the pile of parchment he has on his bench. Below him, Percy was furiously scribbling down notes. Next to him, a slightly shuffle was heard as Hermione leaned closer to him.

"Thanks for coming," she whispered quietly.

Keeping his stare up at the members, Harry tilted his head closer to her. "I told you I would, didn't I?"

"Yes, but I thought after last night you might have overslept," Hermione admitted shamefully. "I was waiting for you out in the corridor and when they called me in and you didn't show –"

"My clock didn't go off," Harry said briskly. "I had it set for six but must have slept through it. Ginny must have tried to wake me up too since she was gone when I woke up. But that doesn't matter – I'm here now, aren't I?" he added with a twitch of his lips.

Hermione snorted. "Only by convenience, Auror Potter."

Harry never knew how much he missed being called like that until he heard Hermione say it. A title that contained authority and expectations of leadership. And the way Hermione said it, in such a playful manner that was all too nerve-tingling, made Harry's hands shake and he needed to tighten his grasp to keep them firm and unnoticeable.

"Let's move along with the charges, shall we?" insisted Kingsley, shuffling his notes. The courtroom went silent again. "The charges against the accused are the following: Knowingly and in full awareness of the illegal use of her actions, received a written demand from the Ministry of Magic for the casting of a False Memory Charm on a Muggle in a Muggle-inhabited area on the eleventh of October at 1:49, thus in violation of Clause 73, Section Thirteen, Paragraph Three of the International Confederation of Warlock's Statue of Secrecy."

Harry heard Hermione inhale sharply and could feel her tense up. He resisted the instinct to reach across to take her hand in his. He needed to seem like he was unbiased. If he looked like he was leaning too far into Hermione's favor then they would not take his words into account and she would be facing poor results.

"You are Hermione Jean Granger, of number thirteen, Chester Avenue, Central London?" Kingsley asked, peering at Hermione over his parchment.

"Yes," replied Hermione.

"You have been present in the Wizengamot under the orders of the Ministry for reports of theft of owned magical creatures, trespassing of private property, and unauthorized protests against treat of house-elves nineteen years ago, yes?"

"Yes."

"And yet you casted a False Memory Charm on the afternoon of the eleventh of October?"

"Yes."

"Knowing that you will under violation of one of the sacred laws of the wizarding world?"

"Yes."

"Knowing you were in an area inhabited by Muggles?"

"Yes."

"And knowing you could have caused complete brain damage to the Muggle in record, Neil Chippington?"

"Yes," sighed Hermione. Harry could already hear the exhaustion in her voice. He felt guilty because he knew his late phone call was part of it but he was certain that most of it was from the 'yes or no' questions being thrown at her. They are completely draining and do take up one's patience quickly.

"What do you plead?" Kingsley asked. "To be condemned or not to be?"

"Not to be, sir," said Hermione.

"Even with the charges as clear evidence against you? You are willing to plead to not be condemned to life in Azkaban?" The voice that rang out was owned by Olivia Mark.

"Yes, I stand by my actions and my reasons for doing so," Hermione replied with no hesitation.

Hushed whispers and mumbles spread out among the witches and wizards again; some of them were staring at Hermione incredulously, impressed by her courage against the odds, but the others who were talking to Olivia Mark were scowling and scoffing arrogantly. On the other side of the courtroom, sitting on the benches next to Kingsley's, a woman with a bad perm and squared glasses stood.

"Do you understand that everything you say will and can be used against you," said Katherine Thorn. "I suggest you use your words carefully."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well, Miss Granger," Kingsley began, stealing a glance at Harry. "You may now speak out."

Harry clenched his jaw in anticipation.

"I did it for my son," Hermione said quickly before anyone could utter a word in. "And for my niece – Harry's daughter."

"I see," Kingsley nodded. "And what is the name of your son, Miss Granger?"

"Hugo Arthur Weasley."

Kingsley held out his hand. One of the wizards sitting on the benches below took out a parchment from his stacks and handed it to Kingsley. Harry waited anxiously as Kingsley read it from top to bottom, his ears twitching at the sound of the members speaking yet again. It wasn't until Kingsley talked again that they went silent.

"Hugo Arthur Weasley - born on August 2nd, 2008, half-blood," he read out. "Is that correct?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

Kingsley looked at Harry. "And what is the name of your daughter, Auror Potter?"

"Lily Luna Potter," Harry answered with ease when in reality he was jumbling with nerves.

The wizard in the lower benches had already taken out another piece of parchment and gave it to Kingsley. Percy was nodding, muttering something incoherent under his breath, as he continued to write.

"Lily Luna Potter - born on March 19th, also half-blood," he said, glancing up at Harry. "Correct?"

"Yes."

"And what is it that was necessary to exploit magic on a non-magical being, Miss Granger?" Kingsley asked the brunette. "How were these two involved?"

"They were victims," Hermione said carefully, "of manipulation, abuse, and unequal treatment."

"Elaborate."

"The Muggle in record, the headmaster of the school they go to, has a nephew attending there as well," Hermione explained. "Ever since last month, the nephew has been verbally and physically abusing my son for personal pleasure. He's been given warnings and detention but the nephew was always free of punishment. Earlier this week, Harry and I got a call from the school saying Hugo got in a row with the boy because he was harassing Lily. When we got there, the headmaster was going against all policies in his position – he was going to expel Hugo were self-defense while he was going to give his nephew a month's detention. He went for the words of his nephew's chums as 'evidence' that Hugo was the one who insinuated everything against Lily's, who was the witness of the whole thing. It wasn't until I saw how he and the boy's father interacted with each other that I was able to see they were related."

Harry was relieved when she finished; the chains have not come to life.

"That's it?" said Olivia with a sarcastic smirk as she looked down at Hermione. "You used magic on a Muggle because your child was going to be thrown out of school? You know, you could have just enrolled him in another."

"Motherly instincts aren't exactly a great loophole to break a law," said another wizard among the group. He had a long dark goatee and rather bushy eyebrows. He was bald – his head gleaming under the torchlight.

"I agree with Counselor Jackson," said Olivia, the smirk never leaving. "If using magic based motherly instincts was allowed then we might as well erase Clause 73 in the law and let all mothers run amuck casting spells on the next person who dares to speak negative of their children."

"I'm sure it's easy for you to say such words, Counselor Mark," Hermione retorted. "Considering you don't have children of your own to sacrifice for. I don't expect you to understand the term 'motherly instincts'."

Olivia scowled. "I'm certain you don't know the meaning of the term either. Tell me, are you still sleeping in your office away from your family?"

An outbreak of mutters roared in the courtroom. The wizard with the goatee, Counselor Jackson, was leaning forward to whisper in Olivia's ear and she grinned. Harry was now clutching on the armrests of his chair. He looked at Hermione and his heart tore into two; she still held the same brave blank face she has been successful maintaining but her eyes were glimmering in ancient guilt. Olivia's remark had stabbed an old wound in her heart on purpose, he knew it.

"Enough – _Enough!_ " shouted Kingsley as he banged his gavel repeatedly on his desk; the room turned into an ominous silence. "All information that is not related to the hearing at hand will not be spoken while in session! If either of your have a personal vendetta against the accused, I want you to step outside immediately!"

No one in the courtroom spoke. A cough echoed. Everyone sat still in their seats, anxiously staring at one to another, as if daring them to talk. Yet no one did. Then, much to everyone's utter disbelief, Harry cleared his throat loudly, and all attention was turned to him.

"If I may, Minister?" Harry said politely. "Permission for witness to speak?"

Kingsley stared down at him for a moment before he replied, "Yes. The Chair recognizes Harry James Potter, Head of Auror Department."

Harry stood from his chair and held his arms behind his back. "I think many of you have misunderstood Hermione when she explained her story. You see I was there during the exchange she had with the Muggle. Yes, her child was involved in this predicament but before you jump to conclusion saying she did this all as on 'motherly instincts' I recall you saying a few minutes ago, Minister Shacklebolt, that Hugo is a half-blood wizard, yes?"

Kingsley nodded wordlessly.

"According to Clause 73, for it to be violated you need to have revealed to a Muggle that you're a wizard or a witch and on Section Ten, Paragraph Fifteen of the Statute of Secrecy, any usage of any Memory Charm on a Muggle that isn't for emergencies will result to immediate time in Azakaban," Harry continued. "Well, technically speaking, Hermione did not violate any of these laws. To be more thorough, Clause 73 should be brought attention to if magic is performed in front of a Muggle or if one revealed to them as a witch or wizard. Hermione did not. She did use the False Memory Charm, not for her son, but also for a wizard in distress by a Muggle for, as she said, unequal treatment, abuse, and manipulation. Not just that but she helped a wizard who isn't even registered as a student yet – basic education is a critical requirement for wizards and witches under the age of eleven. By using that charm, the Muggle does not remember her secret as a witch being revealed or magic being used on him and a wizard is able to be prepared to learn to become a proper one. That is automatically a rule out."

Kingsley was now staring at Harry with an impressed smirk. A few of the members above were shifting uncomfortably in their seats and were whispering to each other worriedly. Olivia Mark was glowering down at Harry, her face now a shade of purplish-red that Harry could sworn she was a close relative to Uncle Vernon. Katherine Thorn had a contemplating look on her face. Percy had stopped scribbling and was looking at Harry in shock, his mouth opening then closing but no sound was coming out. Harry could feel Hermione's eyes burning holes on the back of his head but he continued to look up at the squirming Wizengamot as they urgently discussed quietly.

"Oh, and if you care to prove me wrong, you may check on Section Fifteen, Paragraph Seven," Harry added, capturing the attention of the court again. "I'm certain it clearly states that magic can be necessary if another is in trouble with a Muggle."

Harry sat back down and locked his fingers again, not showing any signs of nervousness.

"Very well, Auror Potter, thank you for your time. You may now go," Kingsley said; Harry saw Kingsley send a curt nod at his way before he turned around on his bench and joined the quiet conversation with the other members.

As he stood, he glanced over at Hermione, who was smiling up at him gratefully, her eyes bright and shimmering as if she had unshed tears in them but did not, and she mouthed ' _Thank you_ ' while he walked towards the exit. He winked at her and for a second he thought he saw her cheeks become pink when he did this but he quickly dismissed it.

He glanced back at the Wizengamot before he swept out of the courtroom, keeping his fingers crossed on the way out, in hopes that his words were enough to leave Hermione with positive results.

* * *

The hearing had taken longer than Harry anticipated it to be and he was choking in fear for Hermione. He has been standing outside of the room, pacing back and forth, glancing at the door every five seconds, running his hands through his hair, peering at the large clock at the end of the hall, and tapping his hands on his thigh for brief distraction. Sometimes he would hear a door open and instantly assume it was Hermione leaving the courtroom but it would wizards and witches leaving the other rooms after finishing their cases.

Harry ended up sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and facing the door, staring it down, wishing it would open soon and the first thing he would see is the curly mane of his brunette best friend. The wait was unbelievably long, too long that it made Harry feel a bit crazed by the anxiety. He chose to keep his eyes closed, thinking that it was the sight of the door that was making him become physically jerky, and he tried to keep all negative thoughts pushed out with the opposite. He tried to focus on how well of a plan it was for Hermione to tell him about the laws on the previous night. The idea had soon struck him the moment Hermione was telling her story. He knew she had purposely told him the laws for him to say. She knew what she was doing. She knew they never would have listened to her if she had been the one to say what he said. It was him calling her that had it all leaning more towards her advantage – that is why she was confident she would be freed.

But it timing it is taking ever since Harry spoke had left him rattling in nerves. He is not saying that Hermione's plans were perfect but this one should not be taking so long.

Finally, Harry heard the irritating creak of the iron handle being turned, and Harry quickly sprung up to his feet as he saw Hermione step out into the corridor. He felt his face drain of color and his heart drop to the very deep depths of his stomach when he saw the defeated look on her eyes, her cheeks flushed and moist in fallen tears, and her eyes dead. He shook his head.

"What did they say?" he asked apprehensively as she stepped closer to him.

Hermione just sighed and looked down as her feet, crossing her arms. Harry shook his head again.

"Did they – Hermione, they didn't, did they?"

Hermione just kept her head down. A few droplets of tears have dripped down from the tip of her nose and her shoulders were shaking. Harry's eyes widen and his shook his head a third time as he gripped his hair. His heart, which felt as if it had grown to an unbearable size, was stuck in the middle of his throat and the hard thumping sensation was making it hard for him to breathe. He was expecting, hoping, that the hearing lasting too long would mean that she would be released from all against her but instead he learned she got condemned to Azkaban. He was not sure what he should think – he was not sure he was feeling anything. He was just there.

"Hermione, this…no, this can't be-"

"It's alright, Harry," said Hermione softly, never raising her head.

" No, it's not – they can't - this is unbelievable."

"I know –"

"I – I'm sorry, Hermione, I thought it would work –"

"– I can't believe everything went according to plan," finished Hermione.

" – I thought it would be enough and –" Harry paused. "Wait, _what_?"

Suddenly, Hermione lifted her head to face him and she was wearing a radiant expression, her smile wide and bright through her tears. A spark of hope ignited within Harry.

"You're cleared," he stated slowly.

"All charges – cleared!" Hermione squealed excitedly. She jumped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Harry's neck, her hair obscuring his vision. The force of her hug had caused him to lose his balance and his back was knocked into the wall behind him as she cried into the side of his throat.

From emotions running uncontrollably, Harry returned the embrace with equal vigor, burying his face deeper into her hair, gripping her strongly on the back of her robes, and breathing her in deeply. He could feel the relief, the happiness, coming out of her and being transitioned into him, making him have to screw his eyes shut tighter as the back of them were starting to sting a little. She was safe – she was released. The fact seemed too surreal for him. He held her closer, molding her against his as if she was part of him, pressing his hands harder against her back and his fact deeper into her hair.

"You figured it out – you really figured it out!" she breathed in his ear, laughing. "I knew you would!"

Harry chuckled. "Of course, I would. Hermione, you don't just go around spilling out information just for the hell of it."

Hermione lets out another breathless laugh.

The courtroom door opened again and the Wizengamot were filing out. Most of them were kept their eyes steered away from them, others would glance at them as they walked along with the crowd. Olivia Mark was one of the last few to leave the room, her face resembling of a tomato, but she did not spare them a glance whilst she practically stomped down the corridor. Kingsley was the very last person to pass them all; he was giving them a supportive smile and nodded. Harry returned them with a silent ' _Thank you_ ' before the smarmy wizard proceeded down the corridor and he went back to passionately hugging Hermione.

Unfortunately it did not last long. Hermione had pulled back from the hug and was clutching him on the arms, shaking them lightly.

"We need to tell Ron and the others," she said, beckoning him with her to the stairs. "They will be pleased! Everyone will be so thankful for what you've done, Harry! I bet Mrs. Weasley will want to bake her heart out for this!"

Harry grinned. Everything heavy was suddenly faded and replaced with an air of no absolute worry.

Hermione stopped in an unexpected halt at the bottom of the stairs leading up to level nine. "Oh, wait, I need to tell you now before I forget again." She reached inside her robes and took out a ticket stub. "Dean came by my house two days ago. I'm not sure if he managed to get in contact with you but he's in Britain for the World Quidditch Cup Leagues and gave us all extra tickets for a match tonight. This one is yours." She took his hand and placed the ticket stub in his palm. "You will be able to go tonight, will you?"

Harry stared at her strangely. " _You_ want to go to a Quidditch match?"

"Not really," Hermione answered honestly. "But you should have seen Hugo's face when he saw Dean and when he showed him the free tickets – I couldn't say no. Ron had told Lily and Teddy yesterday so you know they were all up for it. I'm surprised you haven't been told."

"I must have been asleep when they were told," Harry murmured.

"Well, will you go?" Hermione inquired eagerly. "Oh, Harry, I hope you do. We haven't been able to do this together for so long. The last time we went to a Quidditch match was in 2014 – that's too long."

"Yeah, it is," Harry agreed.

"So will you go?" Hermione repeated.

Harry stared into those brown eyes that could be mistaken to pools of melted chocolate. He could feel himself as if he was falling into them, ready to be lost in a sugary rush and drowned in a sweet whirlpool. He can see the hope sparking off her pupils and hear her send him a silent plea through her gaze. It amazes Harry how he had seen these eyes so many times, the same ones he had looked into for twenty-six years, but now he was seeing them so differently, like this was the first time since they've known each other that he is realizing how powerful even a simple glance from them could be. He doesn't think he could live not being able to look at them.

"What time?" he asked.

Hermione beamed. "Meet us at the Burrow at six. George will have the Portkey set up by then."

"Noted."

"Oh Harry, this is going to be great!"

Harry smiled brilliantly as Hermione once again flung her arms around him and held him in a rib-breaking hug. He did not mind. He had grown used to Hermione wearing her heart openly through her actions, especially on the days when she is feeling emotional, and he would let her because he knew from experience that holding in all kinds of feelings was far more unpleasant. It was also because it was part of who Hermione is; an affectionate girl who loves with a heart that loves strong. And he wouldn't change that about her.

As Harry went to embrace her too, he came to a realization again – the same one he has been circling around for too long now – the same one that kept coming back to fight with him whenever he would shrug it off – the same one he would come up with a thousand excuses to make it leave him – the same one he was too tired of denying of time and time again.

This woman in his arms – this wonderful, unpredictable woman who he has known for all of his life, is his very best friend. This woman was the same little girl he had saved from a mountain troll in a girl's bathroom and she grew up with him from that moment in return – taking every hit, every curse spell, every risk of getting thrown out of the best school she was blessed to be part of, of endangering her life with the possibility of it coming to an end, all for him. She could have left him with a returned favor of lying to a teacher for him but she chose to have a friendship with him and never once has she ever left his side.

In time, she became someone important to him. Someone he could not bear to lose. Someone he could confide in to bring him comfort even when he does not ask for it – she would give it without his word. Someone who was now half his life and if he lost her one day, he would die a little inside. Someone who has a loyalty to him so strong that it scared him. Someone who he simply could not go a day without speaking to – he did not want to think how awful it was for him when she went back to Hogwarts for her final year. He just knew he never felt so incomplete like he was without a half of him. Back then he thought it was the aftereffects of a part of Voldemort being rid from inside him but thinking back at it now, he knew it was because he did not have Hermione around. Any time he did not have Hermione around, he would feel that way.

Harry could not believe that she has such an impact in his life. A person once a stranger now someone who was the best thing to have ever stumbled into his life.

Someone who was the first woman to had given him the pleasure of experiencing warm hugs and care for his safety.

Someone who was the first woman person ever to kiss him.

Someone who was the first woman to stay by his side faithfully when the world turned against him.

Someone who became the best friend he could ever dream of apart from Ron; she is the half of him who knew his thoughts, his deepest desires, and the root of his common sense.

Someone who became his personal advisor and source of unconditional support.

Someone who was his savior countless times to help him grow and train into the destined protector he is known as now.

Someone who showed him how to love another like the sister he never had.

Until finally, after twenty-six years of putting her through the worst of the worst of a hellish life, he saw her as someone who he could share the love of a man and a woman with. And he will admit it with all the pride of the men in all worlds together:

He, Harry Potter, has fallen in love with his best friend, Hermione Granger, and he is not ashamed of it.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	22. Dearest Brother

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned.

A double update like I said. I worked so hard on these chapters for you lot because I know some of you have been extremely patient and loyal since the beginning of it and you all deserve it so much. I can't thank you enough for your support. I know I say it a lot but I can't find any other words to show you my gratitude.

This chapter goes to every single one of your; the HHr shippers, the Ron lovers, the Ginny lovers, Weasley clan lovers, the Harry lovers, the Hermione lovers - every one of you!

By the way, my friend recommended the song after reading the chapter, saying that it catches the thrill of the atmosphere here. I agreed.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _I hear it calling outside my window_

 _I feel it in my soul (soul)_

 _The stars were burning so bright_

 _The sun was out 'til midnight_

 _I say we lose control (control)_

\- Best Day Of My Life; American Authors

* * *

 _"There's nothing like deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons."_

\- Charlie; The Perks of being a Wallflower

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One: Dearest Brother**

Harry inhaled deeply before he knocked on the heavy door and waited patiently. When he heard the deep voice call out "Come in!" he pushed into the room without hesitation, his head held high like he owned the place, and his eyes staring determinedly at the wizard sitting behind the large desk that seems to almost reach both side of the room and was almost buried in papers.

When the wizard looked up from the parchment he was writing on, he stopped his quill and leaned back into his chair while smiling at Harry.

"Auror Potter," he greeted casually as Harry closed the door behind him and walked up to him. "I thought you might have left by now. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"There is," said Harry. "First off, I want to say thank you for getting Hermione cleared at her hearing today."

The wizard waved him off. "I did nothing. I was just being the unbiased judged I had to be. It was you who helped her. I reckon she is eternally grateful of you."

"She is," Harry nodded. Then he turned serious. "But I'm not here to discuss about Hermione's hearing, Kingsley. I have something much more important to talk about."

Kingsley's eyebrows rose. "And what is it?"

"I have a favor to ask of you…"

* * *

The running water of the shower could still be heard coming from the joined bathroom in his bedroom. Lily was taking too long bathing. She always snuck into his bathroom whenever there was a guest in the house, whether it is Hugo sleeping over or, as of now, Teddy visiting. _That bathroom is for guests_ was her excuse all the time but Harry knew is because his held a spontaneous luxury of relaxation that the house bathroom does not have. A built-in bench and a waterfall showerhead above it to wash away the tensions of the back – Harry may have gone overboard when he was reconstructing the house. Teddy was in the kitchen preparing a couple of extra snacks, also dressed, and his clothes were already packed since he was going to be leaving after Halloween. Harry didn't really want him to leave but he understood that Charlie needed him back in Romania.

Harry was ahead of everyone. After he bid his farewells to Hermione at the Ministry, he had immediately hopped in the shower to rinse of the morning drowsiness that was later sinking in to him and he had started to get dressed when Teddy returned from dropping Lily off at school. He went over the roof when Harry told him he was going to the Quidditch match. Ginny had called through the Floo Network from the Burrow to let him know of her whereabouts. Apparently she had been with her parents all morning helping them prepare for the trip to the match, and when Harry told her the same news as Teddy, she was over the moon. It seemed that everyone was wishing he would agree but were doubtful at the same time – he couldn't blame them.

Lily's reaction was his most favorite when he went to pick her up from school. She actually cried in joy. Her face was blotched red, a bit of snot running down from her nose, and the tears were endless. Harry was glad he chose to tell her in the car. She was in hysterics, speaking in foreign babbles, hardly able to express her happiness verbally, and when she was able to hold herself together she went to talk inhumanly quick, saying one thing and another altogether. Harry did not understand what she was saying but he did not care – his daughter was happy because she was able to spend more time with her father and he finds the feeling mutual.

Lily had scampered to the showers the moment she passed the front door and Harry took the chance to go into one of his son's room. The talk about the family shared sport was bringing back memories that including his two missed children and he was feeling sad that they would not be there with him on the stands, calling out fouls, throwing insults to their least favorite team, and betting on which player would score the most for the season. He was longing to see Albus and James again. The house felt irregularly quiet without their constant banters and competitive attitudes. He may have Lily and Hugo to be the ones to fill in the silence but those were during family dinners or when Hugo sleeps over for the weekend but it wasn't the same because he was expecting to have to separate James and Albus with the levicorpus jinx if their disagreements turned physical.

He didn't like it when his kids fight but he enjoyed the role of a father they make him take.

Harry was sorting through Albus' literature collection, chuckling a little to see they were organized in alphabetical order. Albus did not own as much books as Hugo did – the young redhead pretty much owned a library, in Harry's opinion – but he has a decent amount. He has one bookshelf in his room, which was half stocked in novels and in old music records. Unlike James's room, Albus had his decorated to look like a Muggle inhabits in it. The only thing that stood out was the one magical family picture he has on his nightstand. He had Ginny extend his closet so he could tuck in his magical gifts and objects in the many compartments. He was not ashamed to be a wizard – he just loved to have his area clean and neat.

Harry did not mind the idea but Ginny was a bit displeased. _He should be surrounded by magic so he could be used to it by the time he leaves_ , was what she said. Honestly, Harry did agree with her at first because he knew what it was like to be pulled into a brand new world and not knowing what was what but after a while he slowly disagreed with her. Because, although he understood her reasons, he wanted Albus to feel that shock he once did when he first learned about magic. His son already knew magic exists and he knew there was a world made of it but he had never seen it at its fullest – Harry wanted that for him. He wanted Albus to feel that fear of everything being a dream and him waking up in his bed in the next morning but then the elation once he absorbs it all. The feeling itself would be considered unbelievable when he sees everything that Muggles grew up thinking to be a fairytale come to life in front of his eyes.

He and Ginny had a heated disagreement on this. And the next morning they were acting like they were just roommates. Albus ended up setting his sleeping arrangements the way he wants with just the family picture part of it to have it balanced out to both of his parent's liking. Harry and Ginny went back to being a married couple. The conflict was solved.

As Harry looked through the novels, he was actually surprised at the choice of stories his son picked out. The most of them were actually war stories. There were documented ones of the most historical battles of the Muggle and the wizarding world, others were popular Muggle fiction stories, or they were biography books on survivors from the most tragic events. Harry finds it odd that Albus was interested in these kinds of stories. The titles on the covers left him confused. They did not sound soft and kind like the one book he saw him read one time, _Perks of being a Wallflower_. Harry found that book at the end of the collection and saw it was not the only one not related to war. He actually did own numerous others; he just had them in one shelf. Harry went through them out of curiosity, wanting to know why Albus finds them so interesting.

 _Tales and Fantasies_ by Robert Louis Stevenson - _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander - _Horns_ by Joe Hills - _Walden_ by Henry David Thoreau - _On the Road_ by Jack Kerouac. Harry saw a small piece of paper sticking of that one and took it out of curiosity. Technically, he was going through his son's privacy but he doubt Albus had anything too personal that it needed to be hidden. He was only eleven. He opened the book on the page where the paper was sticking out and saw it was a sticky note with Albus's rough scrawl written on it. There was a small note, a poem:

 _I long to escape_

 _Long distance away_

 _To Argentina or Bombay_

 _With travel I unravel_

 _Culture and tastes_

 _On Portuguese plates_

 _Or street shacks on gravel_

 _As long as I'm in motion_

 _Swimming in foreign oceans_

 _I'll be perfectly fine_

 _The world is mine_

 _Perfectly divine._

There was no name in the end. It didn't belong to Albus. It was signed _Anonymous_ so it made Harry wonder where his son got it from. He closed the book, put it back in its old place, and took out the following book in the row. _The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists_ by Neil Strauss. He randomly opened it on the first few pages and he was met with a structure that was similar to the poem from the other novel but it was signed to belong to one Betty Friedan. It read:

 _Men weren't really the enemy –_

 _They were fellow victims_

 _Suffering from an outmoded_

 _Masculine mystique that made_

 _Them feel unnecessarily_

 _Inadequate when there were_

 _No bears to kill_

Harry's interest was actually piqued from reading that small extract. He could feel himself wanting to continue to read. He never knew Albus loved reading mature material (he hoped there wasn't anything sensual in the fictional ones) since he always thought he preferred stories like _Peter Pan_ or _Matilda_ – stories that are about magic. He wondered if perhaps his career as an Auror is what given his son his perspective in novels. _The Game_ sounded like it was about life through a criminal's eyes and sharing their thoughts and feelings on what they do. It did say it is based on true stories. Maybe it could help him for when he goes back to the office. And the poem tucked away in _On the Road_ gave the impression that the book was about traveling to exotic cities, extravagant towns, and visiting rare civilizations among them, learning about their culture and how they live. Much like how Harry does when he goes away on missions.

Harry hoped Albus isn't planning to take any classes required to enter the Auror Training Program in the future. He is flattered that his son is mesmerized by his career but he actually did not want Albus to study in a dangerous field. He did not doubt his abilities as a wizard, not when he knew his blood is swarming through the young boy's veins and his talents have been passed down to him, but he did not want him to take a life that could affect him badly. Harry does not expect Albus to suffer from PTSD like him, as he knows many people handle it differently, but he does not want his outlook on life to be changed from colorful peace to a bitter chore. He wants him to achieve in great things in a life with a thousand good memories made in a day. He wants that for Albus – for James – and for Lily. He strives to give them that life.

Harry tucked the book back and decided to look through the war books to distract himself from his own thoughts. Some of them were actually intriguing to him; _1984_ by George Orwell – _A Farewell to Arms_ and _For Whom the Bells Tolls_ by Ernest Hemingway - _World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War_ by Max Brooks – _The Maze Runners Trilogy_ by James Dashner – _The Things They Carried_ by Tim O'Brien – _War and Peace_ by Leo Tolsoy – _The Art of War_ by Sun Tzu – _Birdsong_ by Sebastian Faulks – _The Beedle and The Bard_ –

Harry paused. The colorful spine with words printed in an elegant calligraphy was unmistakable. He took the book and stared at the cover; the same beautifully graphics of the skull, the vines, the thorn roses, the tree stump, the Elder Wand, the spilling cauldron, and the severed heart were still the same as he remembered it. But it couldn't be the same book that traveled with him on the Horcrux hunt, could it? It could not be the same book that Albus Dumbledore left behind for Hermione in his will, could it? Harry flipped open the cover and saw the scratched doodle of the symbol of the Deathly Hallows on the upper right corner and the famous name of his former headmaster striped out and replaced.

 _Property of_

 _Hermione Jean Granger._

Harry grinned and chuckled lowly. It is the same book. After the war, Hermione had managed to translate the runes of the book as Dumbledore requested in his will and when she had it published, it sold worldwide in two weeks as a famous children's book. Albus must have pleaded Hermione to let him read the original copy as she would never let anyone graze a touch on the cover unless she is the one reading it to the children. Harry wondered how Albus managed to convince Hermione to burrow it. The book was still in good condition, not a scratch or a page bent, so he must truly love the book and Hermione saw it.

"Daddy?" called out Lily, and Harry turned to the door, still holding the book. She was dressed in a lime green tank top and jeans. She has a towel draped over her shoulders so her dripping hair does not wet her clothes. She was holding up a brush and a few rubber bands to him.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" Harry chuckled as he stuffed the book in his coat and went to her to take the bands and brush from her.

"Am I pretty like mummy when she was in my age?" Lily asked hopefully whilst turning around. Harry took out his wand to quickly dry her hair before he started to gingerly brush it.

"You're actually a lot prettier than her," Harry answered honestly.

"No way! I saw pictures, she's way prettier!" Lily protested.

"I beg to differ," said Harry as he started to tie her hair up into pigtails. "Don't tell your mummy I said this, okay? It's our little secret."

"I promise!"

"And done." Harry stepped back and Lily whirled around to let him observe her. "Oh yeah, definitely prettier than your mother."

Lily giggled giddily. She then held up her arms, kindly asking him to lift her in his arms. He happily complied and carried her downstairs after he kicked Albus' room closed.

"D'you think Grandma Molly with come with us?" Lily asked.

"I don't think so," said Harry. "She might stay behind with Grandma Carol."

"How come Granny Carol never comes with us to see Quidditch?"

"I don't know. Maybe she finds the sport too dangerous."

"It's not that bad."

"I agree. But, you need to remember, Grandma Carol is a Muggle, so she probably doesn't understand the rules. Your Aunt Hermione isn't a fan of Quidditch either and she might not have explained it well enough for your grandma to understand."

Lily raised a brow. "But Auntie always watches the matches with us. How can she not know it?"

"Ah, she only knows the basics. She knows what the positions are and what they're for but she doesn't know the fouls, the violations, and whatnot," said Harry.

Lily looked mortified, as if she sees this new information as some sort of treachery. Harry laughed; she always has the same reaction whenever it comes to Hermione's lack of knowledge in Quidditch. Lily treasured the sport to heart and for her to hear someone question a rule of it, she would make a big scene like the world was ending.

Then, after seeing the comically horrified expression on his daughter's face, Harry's mind suddenly went back to the night he and Lily ate pizza in his study. He never got to ask her what made her want to ask him that question. He really wanted to know what roused her to ask something so unexpected, something that should be addressed to him with the woman he is married, not with the woman he is lawfully related to.

When Harry reached the bottom of the stairs, he said, "Hey Lily, I need to ask you something."

Lily gave him her undivided attention. "Yes daddy?"

"You remember that night when we ate that really good pizza?"

"You mean the New York one?"

"Yes."

Lily beamed. "Are we going to make another one?"

"Not today," Harry said, smiling. "We'll make one before Teddy leaves, okay?"

Lily pouted but nodded.

"Anyway, do you remember what you asked me that night?" Harry continued. "About how the hero always gets the girl?"

Lily nodded without hesitation.

"Why did you ask me that? I mean, why ask me that about your Auntie, about her being the girl I should have been with? Why not your mother?" He added when he saw the perplexed look she had on. It later turned to one of terror.

"Was that wrong to do?" Lily was wiggling in Harry's arms. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I wasn't trying to-"

"Whoa, whoa!" Harry tightened his hold when he felt his daughter slipping. "Lily! It's fine, you didn't do anything wrong. I was just curious."

"I'm not in trouble?" Lily asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. "No – not the slightest. I just wanted to know, that's all. No harm in that, is there?"

"Nope."

Harry lowered himself onto the steps of the staircase and held Lily close on his lap. He did not want to take the risk of dropping her if she chose to try to escape from his grasp again.

"So, can you tell me why you asked that?" he asked softly.

Lily's face changed into one of shame; she shook her head vigorously then looked away as she hugged herself, suddenly seeming like a frighten kitten sheltering herself from a heavy rainstorm. Harry suddenly felt guilty and scared of her behavior – it was abnormal coming from her.

"Hey, hey," said Harry in the same soft tone as he took her chin in his fingers and gently turned her to look at him; he was surprised to see her eyes glistening dangerously. "Tell me, sweetie – what's wrong?"

"It – it's just –" she hiccupped, "I don't – w-want – you mad at me."

"I could never be mad at you," he reassured her truthfully.

"But – but – I –" she sniffled and snorted, "don't want you – t – to – leave."

Harry's brows knitted together. "Why would I leave?"

"B – because, you're not happy," Lily admitted, making Harry to stare at her shockingly. He is more confused than ever.

"Why wouldn't I be happy?" Harry said. "Lily – hey Lily – explain that to me. Don't worry – I'm not mad at you or anything. I just want to know. Why do you say I'm not happy?"

Lily stared at him uncertainly, hesitation seen on every inch of her face from the glint in her eyes to the twitch of the corner of her lips and the swelling of her cheeks from her fallen tears. He hated himself for causing this to her.

"Because…you – you don't look happy," Lily began slowly. "But when you're around Auntie, you do. You don't look sad when you're with mummy either but…you just seem better with Auntie."

"Is that why you think I should have been with her? Because I'm the _hero_?" Harry asked.

"Isn't that what always happens to the hero in the story?" questioned Lily. "Whenever the hero doesn't always end up with the girl he's meant to be with, he starts regretting it – oh, daddy – don't leave me please!"

Harry lets out a grunt as Lily fell forward and threw her arms around him, the impact of her hug making him fall back in the steps, making him wince a little knowing there is likely a bruise already forming. He hugged his sobbing daughter, feeling her damping tears seeping through his clothes, and gently rubbed her back in an attempt to comfort her. When it came to Lily, he never felt hesitant to be her shoulder to cry on because whenever he sees her in distress, depressed, or unlike herself, he would instantly turn into her protective father. He pressed his lips against her ear.

"Listen to me – I'm not going anywhere," he declared fiercely. "No matter what happens – no matter how sad I may seem, I'm not going to leave you or your brothers, love. You don't know how long I've waited to have you three – you're my life. Nothing is going to take me away from you no matter how bad it gets."

"Even – E – Even – if you're not happy with mummy?" Lily whispered.

"Anything," Harry said. "If anything – I won't leave you. I promise."

Lily nodded silently and did not say anymore. Harry meant what he said. He has no plans in the future to abandon his children – his family who he had longed for so long, who he has been deprived of since he was a baby. He would walk through a wall of fire while dragging two hundred pound weights and taking the burn for his children. Ever since he learned about the Prophecy, he lived life thinking he would die and the fact he lived in the end of the war had not sunk in for him until he had his first child. He was given a second chance to cherish his own first family. He will do everything to not lose it.

"C'mon – let's get Teddy and head for the Burrow," Harry said. "Don't want to miss the match, do we?"

Lily shot up, revealing her face full of forgotten tears, then she hopped off his lap and literally flew towards the kitchen. Harry stayed sitting on the stairs as he watched her disappear through the frame. His thoughts ran around on what she said; _You don't look sad when you're with mummy either but…you just seem better with Auntie_.

Does he really not look happy with Ginny anymore? Lily seemed convinced he isn't. He never considered himself upset being together with Ginny, in fact, he did not have a bad marriage with her. There was nothing wrong in it to make him upset to being with her. They were a typical wedded couple who held lifelong history, living their daily lives in a magical community and working in their respectful jobs, just like any other. They weren't perfect but they were okay. Harry just fell out of love with Ginny – she isn't the woman he wants to be with anymore. She has nothing to blame for his falling out. Perhaps, he looked upset through Lily's eyes because he has been feeling loveless around her without realizing it and now that his actions has been pointed out, he was certain that what he thought on the night before with Teddy was true; he was being mechanical with her. He was doing everything he does with her because it was expected and it was part of what he does in life but there was no heart being put into it. Lily must have confused that with sadness.

And then there was Hermione. The woman he least expected to feel such strong emotions for. According to Lily, he seemed better with Hermione. It could mean a lot of things coming from a child but Harry knew it was much more than that. He reminisced over his actions since Hermione's father was hospitalized. He has been thinking about her in an endless loop – his mind is always going back to what she could be feeling, what she could be doing – he would feel nauseous and a rage of jealously would claw through him when he sees Ron standing a foot near her – he would take every opportunity to spend a second with her – his eyes could never seem to stay off her – his ears would never stop capturing every sound she makes. He thought about his mission, about how he would fall asleep with her being the last person in his mind and when he wakes up she is still there. The torture of not having her there was more hurtful than the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry sighed. He was not sad because he is with Ginny - he is guilty because he is not happy not being with Hermione. He is being what Lily said about the hero regretting not being with the girl. His entire life, he had looked at Ginny as that 'girl', treated her as the 'hero' would to his 'girl', because he saw her as 'the one' he is solely meant to be with forever. Someone who he is bonded for life with. But now he can see he had too engrossed in the idea of having a life with Ginny, in love with the thought of having a future, not her in general. He does not think he had gone for the wrong girl in his past – he did not go to the right one for the future.

His past should have been consumed by the girl with bushy hair who was the only one to see him collapsing when he was having a vision of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort and tried to convince him to not believe in it for his own safety despite the odds of it being true and the same girl who was the only one who looked directly at him with a face full of radiance, of beaming hope, and her eyes brimming with joyful tears when the pastor declared Bill and Fleur bonded for life.

He regrets to not have taken the time to see her back then the way he sees her now. He had lost so much time not being with her. But he doubted it would have made a difference if he caught feelings for Hermione before; it did not change the fact that Ron was still in love with her and that Hermione is also in love with him. He would have been an obstacle between two very important people to him from ever coming together if he had seen in her a different light back then. He would have caused an unwanted diversity among the three of them. Just like he could right now. But he knew, in another timeline, despite having feelings, he would have kept them buried away for Ron and Hermione and he is willing to do that now. He did not want to be the cause of hurt for his best friends, for his nephew and niece, or for his own family. If he does then he will be left with nothing and he does not want to live like that again.

Through his lashes, Harry saw Teddy and Lily leaving the kitchen, and he quickly rose up to his feet. Teddy was holding a small bag where Harry assumes to be packed with delicious snacks and beverage. Lily's face was wiped from all tears but he can see that her cheeks were still a little pink.

"Ready to go, Papa?" asked Teddy with a stretched grin.

Harry forced a convincing smile. "More than ever."

Lily skipped over to his side, taking his hand with her little one, and stared up at him with a happy face. She was back to her old self again. Not a trace of her rare sadness is seen. Harry was relieved to know that his daughter was the kind to not dwell on anything too long and continue on with life enjoying the good things she has now. His words went through her – she knew she will always have her father with her through thick and thin.

Together, they walked into the living room. The fireplace in the corner has wood that was dried and blackened from the last time it had been used two nights ago. Harry lets Lily stand at a good distance with Teddy behind the couch and took out his wand from within his coat.

" _Incendio!_ " said Harry, pointing his wand at the used wood; flames instantly sparked up, merrily crackling and devouring the remains of bark. Harry then went to the small flower pot next to the fireplace, grabbed a handful, and tossed it into the fire, making it roar proudly higher and shine into a blinding emerald green.

"Off you go, leprechaun," said Teddy, grinning.

Lily stared at the fire dubiously. "Is mum going to catch me on the other side? I always fall."

"She'll be expecting you," Harry said. "Go on. Remember – say it very clearly."

Lily nodded and took a hesitant step forward to stand in front of the green flames. She took a deep breath before shouting " _The Burrow_ " loud and walked into the fire. Harry waited close by, listening intently through the crackle and snapping of wood; a rush of air was heard, and Lily vanished. She made it safely.

"Your turn, Ted," said Harry.

Teddy had a cocky grin that made Harry roll his eyes at. Teddy always held an air of confidence whenever he travels through Floo powder because he was able to do it flawlessly on his first time unlike Harry who ended up in a dingy shop in Knockturn Alley. Teddy tucked the bag inside his jacket and zipped it up to the bottom of his chin before he walked into the flames, calmly saying " _The Burrow!"_ and then he disappeared in a whoosh.

Harry followed shortly, saying " _The Burrow!_ " and letting the flames engulf him and swallowed him into a spinning trip. He never liked seeing the whirl of colors or flashes of multiple fireplaces blurring past him so he kept his eyes closed tightly through the whole way. He didn't feel himself slowly down until the last minute he was not quick enough to hold out his hands as he stopped harshly and he ended up fall face forward onto the floor.

"Some wizard you are," said a voice teasingly. "Seriously Harry, you've been traveling through Floo since forever. When are you going to stop falling on your face?"

Harry sat upright, took his glasses off and wiped off the dust with his shirt, before plucking them back on. His vision got clearer and he saw George holding his hand out to him. He gratefully accepted and let him help him stand up to his feet.

"You know I was never good at Floo powder," said Harry with a grin.

"You got better," George said. "At least you didn't say anything that took you anywhere nowhere near Knockturn Alley."

An explosion of laughter shook the tiny kitchen; Harry saw that Ron was also there, sitting by the wooden table, next to Hugo who was bouncing excitedly in his chair and scarfing down a small bowl of homemade strawberry ice cream. Lily had taken a place beside Ginny, who was applying the face paint on their daughter's face. Angelina was sitting behind the young witch, holding her hair back, as Harry could see that she must have pulled off her pigtails. Teddy was helping Mr. Weasley was setting out glasses of pumpkin juice for the children when he spotted Harry's appearance.

"Hello Harry!" he said brightly. "I was expecting you to get here sooner! It would have been odd for you not to show."

"Hello Mr. Weasley," said Harry, grinning. "We should have gotten here sooner but a certain daughter of mine took a bath too long. I thought she moved in there."

Hearing this, Lily squeaks out an embarrassed, " _Daddy! Shh!_ " Harry laughed as her jerked movement had caused Ginny to accidentally swipe the paint across Lily's face. She used her wand to erase the mistake before she continued with her work while telling Lily to remain still.

"Gramps, can I have some biscuits?" Teddy pleaded, eyeing a jar of freshly baked cookies at the counter, and licking his lips.

"You'll have to ask your grandmother for those," Mr. Weasley chuckled before turning to the dark haired wizard. "Have a seat, Harry," he said. "You look like you need it after that awful fall you just had. Molly will be here soon – she's just making sure the owls are fed."

It wasn't still it was mentioned that Harry noticed the small cracks in his lenses. He graciously took the only empty chair available next to Ron, now realizing that his muscles were rather sore from the fall. Then he felt something come across his legs and he looked down to see an orange-colored furry mammal rubbing against his ankles whilst he purred delightfully.

"Hey Crookshanks!" said Harry as he reached down to pick up the feline and placed him on his lap. "What are you doing here?"

"Hermione couldn't find anyone to take care of him," replied Ron, "so she brought him here so mum could watch over him since she isn't going to the match. She's going to Diagon Alley to buy some stuff for Halloween."

Harry arched a quizzical brow. "What about her mum?"

"She's coming."

Harry blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, Hermione got her to come. Something about her mum needing to come out of the house often," Ron explained. "They visited her father a few days ago and he hasn't shown any signs of waking up sooner or later and it seems to have taken a toll on Hermione's mum. So she contacted Dean to see if he could manage one extra ticket – he pulled a couple a strings to make it happen – and Hermione convinced, no, demanded her mum to come along. Took her a while to agree to go but Hermione was persistent."

Harry nodded silently as he slowly raked Crookshanks' back. His thoughts went to Hermione; if she got her mother to come then where are they? Are they in the backyard? Or are they in one of the rooms? He hoped nothing wrong was happening.

"Lucky gits we are, eh?" Ron said, breaking Harry out of his reverie. "Being able to catch the last match in London – getting free tickets from an old mate of ours – it's too much of a coincidence, yeah?"

"Or we're just really lucky," Harry grinned. "The coincidence is that we're going to see the Puddlemeres going against the Chudley Cannons. I never thought I'd see the day."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "You make it sound like it's some sort of far-off dream. The Chudley Cannons had a chance."

"Well, they never had a good streak, to begin with," Harry said. "They usually lose on the few match of every season. So it's a bit, no, it's actually a huge shock to see them make it this far in the leagues."

"You just underestimate them too much," scoffed Ron, rolling his eyes.

"If we underestimate them too much then how come it's taken them so long to win the first match every year?" said George, who overheard their conversation. "They even lost to the Holyhead Harpies, for Merlin's beard! A team only of witches! That's saying something!"

Ginny and Angelina paused on preparing Lily to stare at George indignantly.

"You make it sound like witches defeating a group of wizard in Quidditch is some sort of impossible task," said Ginny snakingly.

"And if I recall, one time I beat you in a one-on-one match a couple of days ago," added Angelina.

George held up his hands in surrender. "Whoa, I didn't mean it in the bad way. I meant that the Chudley Canons have been around longer than the Holyhead Harpies so they have a lot of experience in the sport so for a group of the girl much younger and newer than them to be able to beat them at a score of 120 to nothing is pretty embarrassing. Geez, no need to bite my head off."

Coming to stand behind him, Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Need to be careful around witches these days, son. The twenty-first century is swarming with feminists. One wrong word and they will come tackling you."

"Tell me about it," murmured George before he took a swing of his butterbeer.

"You have it easy, mate. Try being married to one," Ron said; Harry caught that he was glancing at him quickly from the corner of his eye but he shrugged it off and continued to scratch Crookshanks between the ears. He tried to ignore the pang punching through his chest when Ron said that yet he finds the displeasing feeling unbearable and irritating as it started to grow.

"I am," George said with a playful grin while pointing a thumb towards his wife. "So I know your pain, dear brother of mine, I know."

"What pain?" asked a voice from the doorway.

Entering the kitchen were three women; Molly Wealsey, Carol Granger, and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley was dressed in light clothes used for lounging around the house on a lazy day while Hermione and Carol were for an outing. All women were looking lovely but Harry's eyes were settled on Hermione, finding her to be the most tremendous even in her casual clothes. The blood red cotton sweater hugged her snugly that gave him such a struggle to stay resistant of wanting to cradle her in his arms, the washed out jeans showed the curves of her thighs that made his fingers twitch, and the faded white beanie brought out the volumes of her chocolate curls. Simple and understated. She still looked like the same plain and normal Hermione he has seen for years but she just seemed much wonderful than before.

"Oh hello, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said when she spotted her son-in-law and she went over to him to pull him into the same warm, motherly hug he has grown to love. "It is so great of you to join us. We missed you terribly."

"It's good to be back," said Harry, smiling slightly as she let him go. He couldn't stop feeling he should receive any more hospitality from Mrs. Weasley, not when he is having such restricted thoughts about a woman who isn't her daughter. He doesn't want to imagine how she would react knowing he is no longer in love with Ginny, her last child.

"Have you eaten?" Mrs. Weasley continued. "I could whip you up something really quick."

"No, no, I had a decent meal before I came," Harry lied. He actually hasn't been able to have the strength to stomach down a meal ever since he came back from the Ministry early in the morning.

"You need to shave your face, dear, it face is getting hairier than a kneazle," Mrs. Weasley retorted as she cupped Harry's face and turned it to different angles to inspect the length of his stubble. "Also your hair is getting too long – you need a trim," she added, ruffling the tips of Harry's long shaggy hair.

"I like it," said Ginny, who was done painting Lily's face "it gives him a more masculine vibe. If he lets it grow any longer, he could have it in a ponytail like Bill."

Harry tried to imagine himself in Bill's style; long black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail with a few strands leaning over his eyes, wearing edgy clothes that made him seem rough, a fang earring dangling from his ear, and wearing combat boots made out of dragon hide. He could actually picture himself like that. It may also go along with his image as Head Auror but he did not like it. As much the style suited Bill Weasley, Harry feels it did not go along with his personality.

"Are you saying I'm not masculine?" asked Harry.

Ginny shrugged but she was smirking so Harry knew she was teasing him.

"Granny Molly, is there any chance I could have a biscuit?" Teddy asked innocently with pouting eyes.

Some chuckles and snickering can be heard passing around the table at his attempt to weaken their mother for some sweets that may spoil his appetite. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were narrowed with contemplation whilst Teddy kept staring at her hopefully. Then finally, Mrs. Weasley smiled sweetly.

"Okay, you can have one," she replied, making the Weasleys and Potters gasp in shock. "Only if you agree to change your hair. Seriously, Teddy, couldn't you come up with a better hairstyle that doesn't look like you just got out of bed? And have it in a color more proper for your age?"

Teddy pouted. His hair turned dark blue and had become limp, the ends leaning over his eyes. He went to sit at the table with his head supported by his hands while he grumbled disappointedly. The family laughs heartily at his dismay. From the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Hermione walking up to him and he felt his heart drumming loudly and harshly the closer she got to him.

"There you are, Crookshanks!" said Hermione as she reached for the small kneazle from Harry's lap and cradled him lovingly in her arms. "I was beginning to think you got in another row with the gnomes!"

The feline purred happily as she started to scratch him behind the ears and under his chin. Harry was disappointed at her reason for approaching him – he honestly thought she was going to talk to him. She hasn't even spoken a word to him since he arrived. He pondered if she was keeping the distance between them because Ginny was in the same room. He still hasn't forgotten how her behavior pattern has changed. Seeing her make a move to turn away, Harry quickly stood up.

"I guess he can't seem to keep his paws off of me," he said sheepishly.

Hermione turned to him, smiled, and said, "No, it seems like he can't. Then again, he isn't in good terms with me either. I gave him a bath not too long ago so he's practically ignoring him. Isn't that right, Crookshanks?"

The kneazle answered with a weak mewl as Hermione kept scratching his scalp. But Harry was not looking at him; he was more enhanced at how beautifully Hermione was smiling down at her furry companion.

"And here I thought I was special," Harry responded jokingly.

"Oh, I'm sure he missed you," Hermione said. "We all did."

Harry's face suddenly felt extremely warm when she said this. He felt ridiculously proud. Even though she had not said it directly but in a way she had said she missed him. And he missed her too. For too long he has. He has been away from her for weeks for a mission and after he was discharged from the hospital, during his recovery, she had unexpectedly disappeared from his side without a word until she came to his house a few days ago. He could not find a very good reason why she would do such a thing. It was unlike her. The Hermione he knew would have stayed next to his bedside loyally and the one he saw the entire time since his return was not her.

"So did I," he murmured so quietly for her to not hear him.

Harry looked carefully across the table to check that the rest of the joined family were all occupied in their own conversations with each other, then looked back at Hermione, who was engrossed in cooing at Crookshanks and petting him. It seemed that the half-kneazle had long forgotten that she had given him a bath and was openly accepting her again. He glanced around the table again before he leaned closer to her. He tried not to think about how his lips were lightly brushing off the shell of her lobe.

"Have you told them yet? About your clearing?" he asked very quietly. He thought he felt her shudder but he quickly dismissed it as his imagination.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, I have a few minutes ago. Everyone was ecstatic. Molly said she'll have everything prepared when we get back. I told her it wasn't necessary, that a simple cake is enough, but knowing how she is, she insisted. So a celebration will be waiting for us."

"What a way to come home," Harry snorted. "At least it isn't a surprise. She would have gone all out."

"Oh Merlin, don't jinx it, Harry," groaned Hermione.

Harry snickered but stopped once he noticed a pair of eyes looking his way and it took Harry a second to immediately realize it was Ginny. She was glancing between Hermione and him strangely with a look in her eyes that he cannot decipher. Her face was stoned from emotion but her eyes shining with a thousand of them – he just couldn't tell which one it was. Ginny must have noticed she had been caught because she turned away and continued to talk to Angelina.

" _Oh_! Look at the time!" Mr. Weasley said frantically, looking at his wristwatch. "We need to get going or we'll lose our tent! I managed to get a rather good one this year!"

"Yes, yes! Move along, you lot!" Mrs. Weasley urged, shooing them with her hands. "The Portkey is where it always is! Go on! Go on!"

"Portkey?" Hugo blinked, confused. He looked up at his parents. "Aren't we going there through Apparation? We always travel through Apparation!"

Ron grinned as he ruffled his son's hair. "Not this time, little tyke. You see, you and Lily are now at an age where you get to follow some family traditions. Me, along with your Aunt Ginny and Uncle Weasleys, first traveled through a Portkey when we were in your age. Your mother and Uncle were an exception because they grew up with Muggles."

"But why at nine?" asked Lily, who was being held in her mother's arms. "What's so special about nine?"

"That's our lucky number," Ginny replied, grinning solemnly.

Harry was watching the humorous scene play. Lily and Hugo were still clearly confused but in time they will understand the purpose behind the tradition of the Weasleys. It took him sometime to comprehend the meaning behind it and when he got the pieces of the puzzle together, he thought it was wonderful. Their lucky number was nine because their number was originally nine. Two parents and seven children as one whole family. The melancholy side of the tradition was that they were missing one out of the nine of them, one who was living above and watching down at them like their personal guardian angel, yet they continue on with in memory of him.

 _Rest in Peace, Fred._ Harry sighed and glanced out at the darkening sky through the window. He was not religious but he always held a sense of hope that his thought would somehow reach the late twin and that, for a short while, comforted Harry.

* * *

After their departure from the Burrow (not until Mrs. Weasley had done one last check in their supplies) Harry had not been more relieved in wearing a heavy set of clothes than he has that afternoon. From his experience in traveling through Portkey for the first time, he remembered how they all work up early, nearly at the crack of dawn, and he had been rudely awaken from the morning breeze freezing his hands and feet. Since autumn had fallen onto them, the evenings would turn into an Iceland of cool air in a matter of seconds the moment the sun has set, and would have to salvage in their body heat to fight through the frigid.

The village was slowly turning deserted as the inhabitants were returning to their homes to hide away from the cold. Some of them would stare incredulously at the group as they trudged down the same familiar lane. It amazes Harry that neither of them have chosen to follow them as they were the same people who takes the same path that would lead them to the same direction every Quidditch season. He would like to think is because they seem intimidating before but now they have children with them, he can safely assume that the Muggles think they might be going on a hike or going on a short camping trip. They certainly look dressed enough to be on one.

The spirit of Halloween has spread out of the village. Displays of fake skeleton bones splayed in front of houses, jack-o-lanterns were glowing at the porches, and _BEWARE_ signs are set up in every home. The store was closed early for being out of stock of candy and the small department warehouse was packed in ravenous consumers trying to get the costume they desire first. The sight made Hugo and Lily break out in a session of pleads and pouting towards their parents to have the costume of the character they wish to be; Lily wants to be a fairy and Hugo wants to be a dragon.

When they started to climb Stoatshead Hill, the energy of the group was failing. Groans of pain and disgruntled mutters were heard passing through everyone. Some of them would curse ("Bloody hell! When did that thing get there?" grumbled Ron) when they stumble into a forgotten rabbit hole and tumble. Harry did not mean to feel smug about it but he was glad to see that, due to extensive training and daily straining work at the Auror office, he was the most in shape of the group. Ginny and Hermione were coming in close but they were in a fair distance away behind him. Mr. Weasley was still able to keep a reasonable pace next to him. Harry had offered to carry the kids, seeing as they seemed like they would collapse within the first three minutes of the climb.

"You lot really need to exercise more!" he called back jokingly at the group falling farther behind him. "You really let yourself go!"

" _SHUT UP, HARRY!_ " shouted everyone angrily. Angelina had thrown a pebble at him, which he dodged easily and he just laughed and continued to climb forward.

After a couple of miles more of climbing the hill, they had reached a level ground, much to everyone's relief and Harry's amusement. He dropped the kid's onto their feet and readjusted the strap of his rucksack as Mr. Weasley looked at the ground, searching. He looked back at the group; Teddy and Angelina were slumped on the ground trying to regain their breaths, Ginny was going through her bag and took out a bottle of water which she greedily swallowed in large gulps, Ron was inspecting the damage of his ankle that got caught in the rabbit hole, and George was standing tall with his hands on his hips and panting. It was the sight of Hermione helping Carol get over the crest of the hill that made Harry approach them.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Granger?" he asked politely as the woman hunched over with her hands on her knees and taking large breaths.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she panted. "If I had known we were hiking, I would have worn more sensible shoes. Oh! I'm getting too old for this."

"Sorry mum, I honestly thought we were apparating there," said Hermione grimly with a guilty frown as she lightly patted on her mother's back. "I forgot they do that whole _nine years tradition_ as well. You think with James, Albus, and Rose that I would know any better."

Seeing the woman struggling for breath, Harry immediately rummaged through his rucksack and took out a cool, refreshing bottle of water. He kindly offered it and Carol accepted gratefully, not hesitating to drain the bottle empty. Hermione gave him a gentle smile.

"I think we're all at fault here," he suddenly said. "We should have known better that you're not used to this kind of thing so one of us should have apparated you here. I guess we all were too into the spirit of Quidditch that we sort of forgot to consider you."

After drinking one last sip, Carol waved him off. "Mph, no need to fret over it, Harry. I'm not young but I'm not some old hag either. I can still hold my own. Just remind me to bring an extra pair of decent shoes next time because my soles are swollen, I'm sure of it!"

Harry and Hermione shared a look then grinned and laughed. Carol's reaction reminded them so much like their first time.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Carol said after taking another sip of water, "but what is a Portkey?"

"They're objects that can be used to transport from one sport to another, kind of like Apparation, except they're prearranged for a certain time. Wizards mostly use them for large groups like us to go to events like this one," explained Hermione.

"I see," Carol said, fascinated. "And are these objects specific?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, they can be anything we want them to be. Well, not just anything. They need to be objects that Mu – _people_ wouldn't be curious enough to look at twice. Basically what seems like rubbish to you could be transportation to others."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, capturing the sudden pause when Hermione was going to say _Muggles_ , but he did not speak about it. He was sure she had a reasonable excuse.

"That's interesting," said Carol. "You lot have it all figured out then. I would have never thought about that. Very, very clever. But what if people do find these Portkeys and end up being transported to another place? What will happen then?"

"Memory Charm," replied both Harry and Hermione.

"It depends how much you remember," Harry continued. "If we get a notice in less than fifteen minutes since you saw magic then we'll have to use the False Memory Charm, which replaces memories with fake ones we put in, but if it's a late notice then we'll have to use the Memory Charm, which erases a whole day of memories if casted correctly. It could also be arranged like the False Memory Charm but it's a huge risk. Requires a lot of concentration to get around it."

"Oh dear," Carol blinked. "And I thought the government of Britain was strict. I've been proven wrong."

Harry and Hermione laughed. Suddenly they heard Mr. Weasley shout out brightly from afar and the three turned to his direction. The others of the group were already walking towards Mr. Weasley, who was holding an old, limp fedora hat. Hugo and Lily were ahead as they raced towards their grandfather. Harry took Carol's bag and slung it over his shoulder without trouble.

"Oh wait, I should warn you before we leave, mum," said Hermione as the three of them walked after the group. "You may want to hold my hand while we travel. It's nothing like Apparation – you won't get splinched if things go wrong. But the landing is a bit rough on your first time. Harry and I had nearly lost our skulls on ours."

Harry snorted. "I landed just fine. It was Ron who knocked into me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyway, just hold my hand, mum."

"Since when did I become the child?" Carol questioned as she playfully pinched Hermione's cheek. "I should be telling you that."

Hermione blushed out of embarrassment; Harry was mesmerized at her rosy cheeks. He could not believe he never noticed how cute she looked this way.

"Honestly, mother! I'm not a child anymore!" Hermione squeaked meekly, pulling her mother's hand off her face and glancing down at her feet.

"Oh, don't be such a woman, dear, you'll always be my little _Cinnamon Buns_."

"Mother!"

"Harry, do you know about Hermione's horrible obsession with cinnamon buns when she was younger? Made me question myself as a dentist, she did. The loads of cavities she had!"

"Mother!"

"I may have been told," said Harry, completely ignoring Hermione's pleading eyes, and he hiked up the strap of the two bags more comfortably on his shoulder. "The bit of the cavities is a surprise to me. I would _love_ to hear that story."

"Harry James Potter, _you will not!_ " Hermione shrieked.

Carol and Harry laughed at Hermione's face, which was now burning red from her roots to her neck. Carol then leaned closer to her and Harry saw her whispered something inaudible to him in her ear, making her blush to deepen if humanly possible. Hermione glanced quickly at Harry before she hissed lowly at Carol, who was looking rather smug and unfazed by what her daughter could be saying to her. Curiosity shot through Harry like an Unforgivable Curse but he decided that it could be a private subject between them and continued walking without a look at them. Yet he could not shake the feeling that he was involved in their hushed conversation.

Mr. Weasley was placing the hat on the ground as the group moved to circle around it and he was checking his watch.

"That's it?" Carol whispered to Harry.

Harry grinned. "Don't underestimate by its size, Mrs. Granger. Its more powerful than you think."

"A hat?" asked George to Mr. Weasley. "Dad, the group it a lot bigger than last time. Do you really think a dingy hat can take us all?"

"It was either this or the dustpan," said Mr. Weasley before pulling back his sleeve and looked at his wristwatch. "Okay everyone – two minutes! – Get ready!"

Everyone readjusted their bags onto their backs before they kneeled around the hat (Carol the most hesitant to follow) and held into the hat with difficulty as the hat was ripped in some areas and quite small as George said it is. Harry and Ron decided to hold Hugo and Lily in a strong one-arm hug for safety. Carol, who was feeling the anxiety get to her the longer they stood there waiting, had taken Hermione's hand and clutched it so tight that her grasp shook. George was grinning excitedly while Angelina was tapping her fingers against her thigh. Ginny was surprisingly silent.

"Five…four…" Mr. Weasley started to mutter, "three…two…ONE!"

The Portkey activated; Harry tightened his hold on Lily as the familiar pull in his stomach came and his feet left the ground. Shoulders and feet banged with his as they all swirled around rapidly in an air of molded colors. His ears were stinging from the high whistle and the vibrating screams of the kids and Hermione's mother but that was all easily drowned out by the easy laughter of the others and he finds himself doing the same. They all continued to twirled recklessly, wildly, as they traveled deeper and deeper into the whirlpool until finally Harry felt the momentum slowed then –

A slight pain went up his leg as his feet thudded to the ground but he ignored it as he looked around the open field. He can see all the adults were standing proudly while Hugo and Lily were groaning on the ground – he and Ron had let them go at the last second to let them experience their first time like they did. He heard a thud land behind him and he looked to see Hermione and Carol have landed perfectly, although Carol looked a bit dazed.

"Had a nice landing there?" asked Ron with a mischievous grin.

Hugo, who quickly recovered, shot up to his feet and glared at his father. His face was going pink under the dirt smudged over it and his hair was tangled up with grass strands and twigs.

"You let go!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at Ron. "How could you let me go like that? That fall really hurt, you know!"

"It's part of the tradition," said Ron, smug. "Feeling the pain is a rite of passage in becoming a man and a woman. Congratulations, you've hit puberty."

"Rite of passage? That's a load of gormless excuses and you know it!" Hugo retorted heatedly. "This is just a prank, isn't it? It isn't funny! I could have broken my neck and died! Or worse! I could have broken my wrist and never be able to hold my first wand! Mummy!" he shouted at Hermione as he ran towards her. He buried his face in her sweater and held her tightly whilst he whimpered.

"It wasn't that bad," Lily remarked despite craning her neck and picking the grass out of her red hair. It had fallen out of the pigtails Angelina had tied them into and it had gotten bushy through the traveling.

"C'mon ol' chap, it wasn't so bad," George spoke. But Hugo lets out another whimper and shook his head against Hermione's sweater. Ron was beginning to look guilty.

Harry, like the others, was not expecting such an outburst from the young Weasley boy. He actually thought Hugo would express his excitement from his first traveling through a Portkey and beg to go home in the same way again like he always does whenever he learns something new in magic. Then Harry thought about Hugo's words; he thought this was a prank. And now Harry understood. Hugo thought they were making fun of him, he thought they were laughing at him instead of with him. He had gotten used to being bullied at school that he doesn't know when one is being serious or not. Harry knew Hugo was being bullied at school but to see how badly it affected him was heart-wrenching.

Harry saw Hermione kneeled down in front of Hugo the same time Ron approached him and placed a fatherly hand on the young wizard's head as Hermione spoke to him quietly. Seeing them together, acting normally, functioning better than a well-oiled machine, gave Harry the urge to retch right on the spot and he felt disgusted in himself. One of them is his best friend, his very first friend, who stood next to him from the beginning until the end despite the many obstacles they went through and the fallouts they had, and here he is feeling a familiar monster in his chest caused by a happiness Ron has wanted since their Hogwarts years. He never felt any lesser of a friend to Ron than he is now.

"A bit sensitive lad, he is," said Ginny, making Harry start. He never noticed her move to his side or when she took his hand. "You'd think he'd react differently."

Harry sighed, "He just had a bad term."

"Err…A quarter to eight from Stoatshead Hill," said an uncertain voice.

Mr. Weasley picked up the hat and headed towards the same familiar wizards Harry would always see whenever he comes to a Quidditch match, Basil and his associate. Their way of dressing up as a Muggle has improved greatly over the years but they were still not exactly 'incognito' enough to not draw attention. Basil was wearing a dress shirt with Bermuda shorts and combat boots, and his colleague was sporting a Hawaiian shirt with sweatpants and fluffy slippers. Harry still finds it amusing.

"Afternoon, Basil," Mr. Weasley as he handed the hat to the silent wizard and let him drop in the same box. Harry is still amazes at the many things used as Portkeys by wizards: a torn stuffed animal, a carbon box, a used pillow, a towel, and was that a toy used for special needs? Harry quickly looked away, mortified.

"Never miss one, Arthur," commented Basil. "I don't know how you do it…managing to get off duty for these occasions. These things have been getting out of hang – wizards trying to pull a fast one on us with false identities and playing dumb like there is some mistake in the list. Savages, I tell you, savages!"

"I'm sorry to hear about that, Basil," Mr. Weasley said honestly. "I'm sure those wizards can be a handful."

"You don't know the half of it," muttered Basil. "Anyway, let me find your campsite here…" he brought out a roll of parchment, opened it, and skimmed through the list. "Um…Weasley…Weasley…Here it is…Weasley: Field Twelve, Tent D. It's not too far from here, about half a mile through that bush over there, and when you get there you will come across an Auror."

"Thanks, Basil," Mr. Weasley said before he beckoned the group to follow him.

"Have a good one!" called out Basil as everyone stepped through the wall of bush one by one.

"Wow, Tent D!" Ron said happily. "That's a lot better than Tent K we got last time! You got a really better spot this year, dad!"

Mr. Weasley grinned proudly. "It took a few strings to get it but I managed. I wanted the best for the kids since they made it to the big nine and were traveling through a Portkey for the first time too."

"Thanks Grandpa Arthy!" said Lily politely.

Hugo, however, was grumbling a lesser enthusiastic response. He was walking beside Hermione, tightly grasping on the sleeve of her sweater. He was sending a few glares to Ron but they were not met with heart – there was forgiveness but he was still bothered at the fact his father let go of him so abruptly.

"Watch out, kids," said George mysteriously. "When your Aunt Angelina and I took Fred and Roxanne here around your age, some wood goblins would come out and try to kidnap you."

Hugo looked horrified and Lily gasped fearfully as she ran up to Harry to grip on the leg of his pants, visibly shaking.

"George, cut it out!" Hermione sneered. "Hugo's already shaken up from traveling! Angelina!"

Angelina then smacked George across the head. "Stop it, will you? You'll give them nightmares. Do you want a repeat of Roxanne? She hasn't been able to sleep in her bed a week when you told her that."

"It's all part of tradition," George snickered.

"That's a load of bollocks and you know it," Angelina shot back, though, she was smiling.

Teddy fastened his pace to be able to be alongside Harry and leaned closer to him to whisper, "You can see who wears the pants in that marriage."

Harry was overcome with a strong fit of laughter that he needed to muffle them with a hand over his mouth.

The adults lit up their wands to send a light through the path, not wanting the children to be afraid of the small noises caused by the forest creatures or the snaps of tiny twigs under their feet, as they walked. Luckily there was a trail of ribbon leading through the forest so they didn't have to worry about being lost. Harry vaguely remembered the names of some of the trees from the past trips to Quidditch matches when Ginny would point them out for him; the maples, the hemlocks, the Sitka spores, and the yews. The rest he did not know because they were covered in green parasites and Ginny wasn't able to identify them.

As they went deeper into the forest, the route became unsteady. It appeared that a rain shower had washed over the forest because a few drops of water would trickle down from the canopy above them, and a strong wind had passed through when they came across a tilted tree supported by another still standing proud and carpeted in moss. The adults helped the kids step over the ferns so they wouldn't stumble over the cracks and dips of the ground when Harry spotted a sparkling glow shining its pool of butter-like haze at the last fringe of ferns. Apparently the kids have caught sight of it as well as they squealed in excitement and raced towards it.

"Be careful!" Hermione warned helplessly after them but they have gone deaf to her voice as their figures shrunk the closer they got to the edge of the pool of light.

"Let them have their fun, Hermione," Ginny said. "They deserve it after all the walking they've done."

"Not unless that fun causes them to scrap themselves," Hermione retorted, still worriedly looking after the kids.

"They're fine – it's not the first time they went through here," Ginny said before she walked away.

The group followed after the children and when they stepped through the fern, Harry felt he had walked into the heavenly place he had ever seen. Every year the spots for the Quidditch games would be moved to one secluded area to another if the Ministry approves and this year's area was a magnificent field, perfectly round, well-trimmed, and seem to go on endlessly with the wall of trees. There was also shallow river flowing from within the forest and continued beside a bank, where younger wizards and witches are seen with their parents, splashing and laughing. Harry was surprised that he did not hear the running water nearby. An assortment of tents is seen crowding around a gigantic stadium, all of them magical modified into little homes with yards, trinkets, and flower gardens.

A short, bulky wizard was standing in front of the rows of tents, holding a rolled up parchment, as the group approached him and Harry recognized him; Clyde Walters, a junior Auror. He had been recruited the previous year and had been promoted to an Auror seven months ago. He was an odd lad to Harry. He always wears an eye patch when he still has both eyes and he always sprouts out nonsense randomly at times. Many still question his choice of adding Clyde into the division but his O.W.L's and N.E.W.T's were outstanding that Harry thought it would be a crime to not have him part of the team and the young wizard had proven to be flexible during training sessions.

"Evening!" Mr. Weasley greeted brightly.

"Evening, sir," said Clyde in a monotone. Then his eyes widen when he spotted Harry. "C-Chief!"

Harry smiled. "Hello Walters."

"Hello sir! Fancy seeing you here!" Clyde replied excitedly. "I – I mean, not that it's b-bad to see you here – I – I meant – Nice shoes!"

"Calm down, Walters, I know what you meant," Harry said, awkwardly aware of the other staring at the young Auror strangely and a couple of snickers coming from the girls.

Clyde glances down at his feet shyly, blushing heavily. Harry cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure we have a tent booked," Harry continued. "Tent D – Weasley, Arthur?"

Clyde's finger fidgeted nervously as he tried to unroll the parchment. Ron, Teddy, and George whispered quietly whilst sending knowing glances at Harry, which made him shuffle his feet uncomfortably. Ginny, Angelina, and Carol were overcome by a series of giggles. Hermione was smiling apologetic at Harry. Mr. Weasley was trying to hush them down but also couldn't seem to keep a smile off his face either. Lily and Hugo were staring at the river with longing, not noticing the behavior of their parents.

"Ah, y-yes!" Clyde squeaked. "Tent D – for the weekend?"

"That's the one," Mr. Weasley responded.

"That would be two Galleons and a Knut," Clyde said.

"Let me," insisted Harry, noticing Mr. Weasley reaching inside his pocket, and took out the amount from within his coat.

"No – that's fine, Harry, I got this," Mr. Weasley protested, going red.

"No need, you took the time to book us a nice tent, so might as well," Harry said as he handed Clyde the money and kept his hand held out for the change that the young Auror had taken out of his cloak.

Clyde then took out his wand and mumbled an incantation as he pointed towards the ground next to him. The leaves rustled as a gust of wind blew by; a door-shape silver glow illuminated in front of the group for a second before it vanished. Suddenly loud commotion can be heard coming from the rowdy crowds and tents. Harry never noticed the silence until now.

"Tent D is in row four, number two," Clyde said.

"Thanks Walters. Keep up the good work," Harry told him, clapping the young Auror on the back as he walked past him. The bulky wizard nodded shyly and blushed deeper in silence.

The group walked into the transparent dome and Clyde closed up the entryway after Angelina was the last to enter. The area was full of excitement and cheer: young wizards and witches are seen zooming across the field on toy brooms and others on the ground were tossing a Quaffle. There were stands selling merchandise based on the players of the teams that were going against each other whether it was extraordinary dancing hats, team scarves, team flags that leaves behind a trail of light of the preferred team color if waved, souvenir cups that has team player's faces plastered over them, collectible figures of the players, brand new editions of Omnioculars, training brooms and adults brooms. There were also food stands letting out steams of delicious aroma that left people's mouths watering and game stands for the kids.

"My, my," mused Carol with a sly smirk at Harry, "if I didn't know any better, Harry, I say that bloke was quite smitten of you."

Harry blinked. "What?"

The adults laughed loudly at his confusion. Hermione didn't – she was slapping a hand on her forehead and mumbling something incoherent. The kids, who were walking ahead of the group, were smiling at the sight around them, too engrossed in the magic to notice the conversation happening behind them.

Ron clamped a hand on his best friend's shoulder, grinning deviously, and said, "Tell me, mate, when's the wedding?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded.

"C'mon, mate, you can't be _that_ daft to not notice," Ron said, pointing a thumb down the direction they came from. "Poor bloke has taken a fancy towards you."

"W-what?" Harry shook his head vigorously. "No way! He's just really odd! He likes saying random stuff like that!"

"' _Nice shoes_ '?"

Harry glanced down at his moving feet and up at Ron again. "They're actually nice-looking."

"They're battered and smudged, Harry," said Ginny, looking surprised.

"Aww, Ickle Harrykins has an admirer," cooed George, ruffling Harry's hair playfully.

Laughter roared through the group again as Harry blushed out of embarrassment and kept his head down the entire time. He was a little shocked at their indication, saying that Clyde could possibly have a crush on him. He knew that there are several witches who held admiration towards him because he would overhear their conversations or they would declare their infatuations towards him and try to get him to eat chocolates laced with Love Potions on Valentine's Day but knowing that there are wizards who have 'taken a fancy' towards him, as Ron said, really surprised Harry. Especially one who worked in his division. It was not possible. He does not think he is charming enough to capture the eye of the same gender. He was not conceited.

"If George ever got tempted to fall in bed with another wizard, I'll send his privates on fire," Angelina quipped, a devious grin lighting up her flawless features.

"Yeah right, like I'd even think to look at anyone else after having you to come home to every night, my dear Angel," George replied through a boisterous chuckle, bringing the group to another round of laughter.

Harry just shook his head and rolled his eyes. He really wanted them to drop the subject already. A hand touched his arm, making it spasm in shiver, and he saw it was Hermione, not having any signs of laughter on her face, but she was smiling at him. His brief annoyance vanished at the sight of her pearly white teeth shining at him and her eyes glistening in amusement. It wasn't because she was laughing at him like the others but because she was entertained.

"You do see the obvious here, do you, Harry?" she asked.

"Aside from everyone laughing at my expense, no," he replied. "But I have a hunch."

"Clyde is gay and he is smitten of you," she responded. "Poor bloke couldn't keep himself together when he saw you."

Harry's face went pale in astonishment. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Very."

"Well, this is awkward," Harry murmured.

Hermione giggled. "Don't make it awkward. It's not like he'll jump in your bed at night. He knows you're married and straight so he respects that. It's just a small fancy – he'll get over it soon."

"And you know so much about this because…?" Harry trailed off, indicating her to finish. Unfortunately, she just smiled and shrugged.

Eventually, the group reached their destination and a five-man tent was already set up with a floating sigh next to it reading WHEEZLE. It was three tents down from the stadium. Lily and Hugo were quick to crawl into the tent, banging into each other's shoulders to enter it before the other.

"They never get our name right," Ron grumbled, glaring at the sign, as the other went into the tent. "Don't they know they misspelled it to sound like _weasle_?"

"Better than _Wheezy_ ," Ginny said, grinning at the snort her brother made, before turning to Harry. "Do you want anything to eat? I'm going to buy some food."

"Nah, I'm not really hungry," Harry said honestly, his stomach protesting at just the thought of food. "But you might want to get some for Lily. She hasn't eaten anything since I got her from school. She just hopped in the shower as soon as we got home."

Ginny nodded and reached up to kiss his stubble. Harry lets her because he did not want to make her feel bad.

"Hermione, you want anything?" Ginny asked.

The brunette witch shook her head no. Harry looked at her curiously to see how she would act around them when Ginny kissed him. She was averting her eyes to look at the decorations of the other tents or at the flying children and her arms were tucked in close to her chest, her hand cupping her elbow. She was closed up as a shell.

"You think you can get me some crisps?" Ron asked.

"You have money, use your man wallet and go buy some yourself," Ginny retorted haughtily.

"Okay, okay, you don't need to bite my head off. You sure you don't want anything, Hermione?" said Ron, looking at the brunette with an odd expression that Harry could not make out. What was it? Concern? Sympathy? Pity? He was not sure. He doesn't think there is a reason for him to look at her like that. He must be misreading.

"I'm fine, Ronald," Hermione answered, still looking throughout the area.

Ron frowned. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he persisted as he took her hand and then dragged her off to a far distance, despite her feeble protests.

"That was weird," said Ginny. "Think they're having problems again?"

Harry did not answer her at first; he was watching his best friend intently. His questions were answered when he saw that Ron was really looking at Hermione worriedly and he could not see what emotion Hermione was harboring because her back was facing him but he knew, from Ron's face, that she must not be happy. Ron was talking rapidly that his mouth looked like it was barely opening and he was rubbing on Hermione's shoulders kindly. Then when he leaned down to kiss Hermione on the forehead, Harry had to look away.

"I hope not."

"Me neither. Anyway, I'm going," said Ginny. She gave him another kiss on the cheek before she turned and walked away.

Harry looked after her to distract himself from turning back to his best friends, and he scowled in disgust when he noticed that some wizards were appreciatively staring at Ginny's backside as she passed by them then whispered. Even after years of being with her, Harry was still not used to the special attention she would get from the opposite gender, and he did not blame her for it but it had bothered him. Even at the age of thirty-six, Ginny was still an attractive woman, with her perfect, all-natural assets, her slender curves, and her long, thin legs. Even with her long red hair pulled into a messy ponytail on top of her head, the simple tee, the overly-worn shorts, and the used trainers, she looked amazing. It would be a crime to not spare her a second glance.

Before Harry would have committed a murder to another who dared to look her way but now he was worried about her good healthy if a man would do more than try to talk to her. He knows she is a strong witch and she could handle herself well but he cannot help himself from being protective.

"Hey! Wait up, Gin! I said wait up!" shouted Ron, his voice making Harry jump out of his thoughts, as the redhead ran after his young sister.

Harry turned to Hermione but saw that she had already crawled into the tent, her foot being the last thing to disappear. Harry quickly ducked under the tent flap after her and when he got to his feet, he saw she had already made her way to the kitchen, helping Mr. Weasley unpack the treats and snacks. It appears to Harry that Mr. Weasley had managed to get one of the more comfortable tents in the market; the tent was made to look like neat apartment with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a full kitchen, and a small living room area. It was enough to have the whole group in one tent unlike the previous year when they had to set up three tents in one cramped reserved space.

George had taken out the Wireless and he was going through the magical stations. Angelina was taking the bags to the rooms. Teddy was heading into the bathroom. And Carol was sitting on one of the bean bags, looking around in the same fascinated expression Harry had when he first entered a magical tent. Through the flap of the entryway, Harry could see Lily and Hugo bouncing on their bed while cheering.

"Harry, can you lend me a hand with these? I seem to have brought too much," Mr. Weasley said while pulling out a ten-pack of water bottles from his bag and seem to be struggling to carry it to the icebox.

Harry was quick to give his assistance and took the pack to stuff it in the icebox.

"Phew, thank you," panted Mr. Weasley as he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and use it to wipe the sweat from his forehead and his bald spot. "Seems I'm getting too old, huh? I thought we'd be parch from all the cheering tonight. It's going to be a long weekend."

More shouts came from the room and more bedsprings squeaked in protest.

"You could say that," Harry chuckled.

A loud tapping was heard coming from George as he hit the side of the Wireless and mumbled low obscenities while glaring at the object. He kept turning the knob from side to side but the only thing he seems to be able to catch is static.

"Oi! Dad, I think the ol' Wireless is acting up again," he said roughly.

"We're in a charmed field, George, nothing in the wizarding world can be connected now," responded Mr. Weasley, his face suddenly full of anticipation. "Ooh, try to connect to a Muggle station! They have some interesting music."

"But Muggle music is weird. They all almost have the same sound and they mostly sing about sex and drugs – I don't think that's appropriate with the kids here. They're not really original. No offence, Hermione!" George added, sending an apologetic smile at the brunette witch, who was taking out frozen packets from Mr. Weasley's bag and stuffing them in the icebox.

"No offense taken, George. I couldn't agree more," Hermione muttered the last part that Harry happened to catch and he grinned.

"They'll not all bad, I'm sure they're playing some decent music right now," Mr. Weasley retorted as he walked towards George into the living room.

Harry went up to Hermione almost sheepishly whilst she put a tub of homemade ice cream in the icebox and slammed it shut with a lock.

"Hermione, can I ask you something?" he asked, scratching his head, as she clasped Mr. Weasley's bag closed.

"What is it?"

"About earlier – when Ron took you away – is everything okay?"

"Yes. Why ask?"

"I was just wondering."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks for your concern, Harry, but I promise you there's nothing wrong between me and Ron. I guess you could say we came up with a solution that resolved everything. We're okay."

"That's good. That's…really good," Harry said, forcing to keep the fake smile on his face. "But I have another question."

Hermione looked at him expectantly. "Yes?"

Harry glanced over at the living room, seeing that Carol was now caught in a very enthusiastic conversation with Mr. Weasley about Muggle radio stations as she watched George turn the knob, and leaned closer to Hermione and whispered, "How come earlier when you were explaining to your mum about the Portkey that you paused when you were going to say _'Muggle'_?"

"Oh you caught that," Hermione sighed, looking over at her mother. "I don't like calling mum or dad a Muggle. Ever since I've been discovered a witch, they always felt foreign with me despite our close relationship, and although I explain to them about some things, it isn't the same. Don't misunderstand, it's not like I can't talk to them about anything from the wizarding world – they love learning about that side of me. I just don't want them to feel like they don't belong with me anymore. So I don't call them a _'Muggle'_ to not make them feel any more out of place than they do now."

"Do the others know?" Harry asked.

"No, they don't. But I don't think it bothers them when Ron or Ginny or anybody calls them a Muggle because they know they grew up in magic. It's different with me because I grew up with them," Hermione said.

Harry nodded. He could understand her points. He may not have grown up with his parents and they were a wizard and witch but listening to Hermione made sense. He wondered if his mother, Lily, ever felt this way with her parents. Maybe they were. Or maybe they were closer to his mother for being a witch. He did not know. He wishes he did.

"You think she feels more normal now with everything around her?" Harry asked.

"Oh no, not the slightest," Hermione answered with a chuckle. "I bet she feel more like a witch here than like a kid in Disney World."

Harry laughed. It was at this moment that Ginny and Ron entered the tent with their hands full of fountains of food and drinks.

"Those gits were out of spicy crisps," huffed Ron as he and Ginny walked to the kitchen to place the food and drinks on the small table in the center.

"Get over it, Ron," Ginny grumbled. "They're just crisps, not a kidney, you can live without it."

"You're just saying that because you got your order," said Ron before turning to his best friends. "Everything settled?"

"Almost – they're still trying to pick a good station to listen to," Harry answered, nodding at the small circle in the living room. "It seems to be a lot harder to connect to a Muggle station."

"It isn't," Ron said. "The blasted thing is ancient. We need to get a new one at Diagon Alley. They added a new feature on those things – you can connect to any Muggle device that has music in it. Radios, records – anything really. This thing only connects to stations and it's rotten, let me tell you that."

"Give it some credit," Ginny countered. "Dad fixed that thing from scratch and it worked well for ages. I remember it was nothing but bolts and nuts when he brought it in. It's a lot nicer compared to back them. Came quite handy too."

"That's true," Ron murmured. He had a dejected look on his face with eyes shining an old grief, too old for someone in his age, and Harry knew he was thinking back at the Horcrux hunt because Ron only ever looked that way during that time. Hermione seem to have noticed the look in his eyes too because she went to his side and was rubbing Ron's arm tenderly while giving him a comforting smile, which Ron returned with a thankful one.

Harry turned away from the moment and looked over at the living room where he can see George standing up with his arms in the air as he looked down at the Wireless in victory as he shouted out a cheerful, "Finally!" The room was soon filled with rapid beats of a song and quick singing of a popular Muggle rapper. Everyone clapped at George, whistling playfully, and he, in response, dramatically bowed.

"Took me a while but I finally managed to connect it to a Muggle radio," George said. "Now we could listen to anything."

"Could you change that song?" Carol suggested. "I heard that song one time and I was repulsed by it – too vulgar for the kids. No grandchild of mine is listening to that."

"Any recommendations?" George asked.

"I know a couple of good stations," Carol said as she moved from the couch next to Mr. Weasley to the one next to George and started to turn the knob experimentally, switching to different channels.

Mr. Weasley stood up and clapped his hands. "We've got one hour before the match starts. Who wants supper?"

Clatters and thumps were heard coming from the bathroom; the door swung open and Teddy shot out of the room with a look of anticipation. His eyes were bright and he was wearing a greedy smile so wide it nearly took over his entire face.

"I do! I'm starving!" he declared excitedly.

The tent was inflated in uncontrollable and ear-ringing laughter from the adults as Ron rolled over the ground – Hermione using the counter as support for her sagging weight – Ginny using Harry to keep her balanced – Carol burying her face in one of the couch cushions – George openly pointing and gagging in chortling gasps – Mr. Weasley failing to bite his mouth closed - and Angelina and the kids coming out of their rooms to join in the loud commotions they were hearing – all because they saw Teddy had forgotten to pull his pants up in the bathroom and he was flashing his pink pixies boxers to everyone.

* * *

Harry felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down to see Lily staring up at him pleadingly as she pointed a game stand that was being blocked by one of the salesmen pushing a merchandise cart. He can see that it held all sorts of enchanted knick knacks and toys so he could see why it caught her attention so quickly.

After supper and spending a short time refreshing in the tent, refueling themselves from the their long trip, the group had decided walk around the area to look at the stands for souvenirs and entertainment. Everyone have long separated; George and Angelina have went to the site of the campsite where the team players are reside to wish good luck to Dean Thomas and Oliver Wood, Mr. Weasley has dragged Carol to see some of the beauties of enchanted items in display, Ron has taken Hugo to play a couple of games, and Ginny was caught in a conversation with an old friend from her school. Teddy went to buy some merchandise before the game.

Hermione was nowhere to be found and that worried Harry. He could not understand why she seems to suddenly disappear at the last minute – she has been doing that a lot lately. It was almost as if she was purposely avoiding him. Not anyone else but _him_. It did hurt him to come to that conclusion but he could not find any other reason for her unexpected disappearances. She truly looked like she did not want to be near him at all and he finds that a bit rude when he had been there for her for her hearing and helped her come out cleared. He wanted to talk to her to see what was wrong. Her behavior around him was uncharacteristic.

"Can I play, daddy, can I?" Lily begged, bouncing from one foot to another, as she kept tugging on her father's sleeve.

Harry stared at the stand hesitantly. "Um…what kind of game is that? I've never seen it before."

"It's a cork gun game," Lily answered. "I learned about it from Uncle Ron when he came back from Japan. Remember? The time he started a shop over there? It's really easy – you just shoot what prize you want. That's how he got me the stuffed wolf!"

"Huh, sounds easy enough."

"Yeah, but Uncle Ron says that magical cork gun games are a lot harder," Lily said. "You see how there's two of the same prize? You have to figure out which one is the real one. If you hit the fake one, it will turn to dust."

"Sounds more like a scam," Harry remarked.

"Please daddy! I really want that Broomstick Servicing Kit!" Lily pouted, eyeing at the black leather case hanging at the top shelves. "My broom has been looking rotten and my last kit went empty months ago. I really, _really_ need to polish it!"

"I could just buy you a new kit at Diagon Alley when we get back home," Harry said.

Lily stubbornly shook her head. "Daddy, you always buy me stuff. I wanna get something for myself. Mummy says it builds character, whatever that means."

"Did she now?" Harry smirked. "Alright, let's go and see how much the game is."

Lily beamed and immediately pulled Harry with her towards the game stand. Harry made sure he kept a firm grip on her small hand – there were people milling around in the various stands, crowding the area easily, so with all the noise and the sky darkened, the floating lanterns shining above the campsite, could make it easy for one to lose track of another. When they reached the stand, a young witch had lost and was walking away sobbing to her mother for a retry, then Lily was hopping on the spot, her eyes never leaving the kit.

"Hello!" she said politely to the Japanese wizard vendor.

"Hello little one!" chuckled the wizard. "Having a good time, I see!"

"Definitely," Lily grinned. She pointed at the broomsticks kit. "I'm going to win that!"

"Oho! Is that so? She's a sparky one, Mr. Potter," the Japanese wizard told Harry.

"Yes she is," Harry nodded, not the least surprised that the vendor addressed him to his surname. He was used to random people knowing his name. "How much is the game?"

"Two Sickles a game," answered the vendor.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked Lily.

The redhead's hair bounced along with her shaking head, making Harry chuckle at her endless spirit. He paid the vendor and the Japanese wizard brought out the gun with the cork already plugged in and handed it to the overly eager Lily. Harry was confused to see that the gun has no trigger on it. He may not have been to many carnivals or the games in it but he had seen it on glimpses on television programs and he was certain a trigger is needed.

"You know how to use it?" the vender asked Lily.

Lily seemed hesitant. "Actually no," she admitted sheepishly. "My uncle told me all about it but he never told me how it works."

"That's okay, it's very simple, little one," the vendor reassured her kindly. "It's like casting a spell with a wand – all you have to do is focus on your target, aim, and fire. If you hit the real one, it will come to you but if you hit the fake one, it will turn to dust."

"But I'm not old enough to have a wand," murmured Lily.

"Believe me, it will feel natural," the vendor said. He moved to the side to give her a clear view of the shelf of prizes. "Good luck!"

Lily nervously glanced up at Harry and he gave her an encouraging smile with a nod. She took a deep breath before she aimed the gun towards the direction of the twin kits. Harry watched her as she steadied herself then looked at the kits curiously, observing them thoroughly. If one of them was a fake then they must not have all the same details as the original. He had bought the broom kit many times that he knew how it looked like. He looked around the two objects thoroughly – both have all the letters the same – both have the same leather material – both have stitches of a broom – both have handles – but Harry stopped as he looked at the handle of the kit of the left; it had a small tear at the base. He knew that was the real one. He knew wizards did not use logic so much and a few rare would only use it to con people so for games like this, he knew a customer would go for the one that looked brand new and too perfect.

Harry looked at Lily and saw that she was about to take her shot, mostly likely to the one on the right. Discreetly, Harry curled his finger as he slid his wand down from within his sleeve so it would fall or so the vendor wouldn't see him assisting his daughter, and, as soon as Lily took the shot, Harry had flicked his wrist, causing the pulse of magic to change direction.

"Wha…Congratulations!" the vendor cheered weakly, his eyes wide in shock, as the Broom Servicing Kit shot towards Lily's awaiting arms. Harry smirked secretly as he tucked the wand back in his sleeve.

"Cheers!" Lily grinned widely as she gave the gun back to the vendor and hugged the kit tightly. "I did it, daddy, I did it!" she said happily as she and Harry walked away from the distraught vendor, much to Harry's amusement.

"Yes, you did," Harry smiled. "I'm proud of you."

"I can't wait to tell mum! And Hugo! And Uncle Ron! He'll be so happy to see I won!"

"I'm sure he will."

As they resumed exploring the field, with Lily still gushing over her new kit, they would stop at some of the other games available to challenge each other (Harry would purposely let Lily win) and ended up in the area of merchandises, which Lily was happily sorting through, looking at the objects longingly, then Harry would buy them if they were in reasonable prices and not too extravagant. Ministry officials could be seen not trying keep the magic a secret as there is no Muggle in sight but the Aurors would maintain the control of the rowdy crowd in check. Harry wondered if they would come across with Teddy since he said he would be around the area but with the excitement of the customers becoming rapid now, he finds it unlikely to be able to find his godson in the crowd and would have to wait to see him in their section in the stadium. So he was surprised that he was able to catch sight of a familiar curly mane through the crowd.

Hermione was standing by a cart, looking at the figures of Quidditch players thoughtfully, and Harry was in a bit of a daze on how enticing she could look to him now by just standing normally. He thinks he might be growing an obsession with her now. The witch vendor would seem to suggest her something but Hermione would smile and shake her head, and Harry knew she had declined the witch's offer. She was just looking around and not wanting to buy. Harry was too involved in staring at Hermione from afar that he did not realize Lily had also spotted her and was already speeding towards the brunette until he heard her yell.

"Auntie!"

Hermione looked and smiled when she saw her niece running towards her, barely able to hold the broom kit as it banged against her side in the rhythm of her steps. Her eyes have also glanced over Harry's way as he followed his daughter, and he thought he saw a hint of yearning and later guilt flicker in her gaze, before she turned to the redhead, leaving Harry deeper into the confusion than he already is.

"Hey Lily Bear," she said.

Lily held up her kit. "Look! I won it in a cork gun game!"

"That's fantastic!" Hermione grinned. "I heard those are awfully tricky!"

"Not for me!" Lily giggled. "Have you seen Hugo? Is he with you? I wanna show him!"

"He's probably playing Snapping Squares with Ron."

Snapping Squares is a game where the player has to levitate a hook into an enchanted squared hole to get the prize they want without touching the edges and if touched them the square swallow the prize again. Harry sees it as a much more entertaining way of the Muggle's game, _Operation_.

"Ooh! I wanna play that!" Lily squealed. "Daddy, can I play?"

"I think you already have enough prizes," Harry pointed out, holding up the bags of the prizes his daughter won from the many game stands they played.

"Please! I promise this is the last time!"

"You said the same thing in the last three games, Lily, I think you have enough."

"Please! One more!"

Harry was reluctant at first but then he groaned inwardly when Lily started to use her wide bright brown eyes on him and then made her pouting lips tremble. He cursed that she inherited Ginny's doggy-pout look and the fact that he is able to crumble over easily.

"Alright, one more game. _Last game_ ," Harry added sternly.

"Yay!" Lily jumped crazily on the spot, making Harry and Hermione to laugh at her childish antics. "Can we go now?"

"You two go on ahead, I'm just here looking around," said Hermione; Harry realized she held a small figure of Viktor Krum in her hand, who was actually staring up at her admiringly, and a wave of anger flared within Harry. "It shouldn't be too hard to find it. Last time I went by, a crowd was starting to form. I think the boys were breaking some sort of record."

"I bet they're emptying all the squares!" Lily took Hermione's free hand. "Come with us, Auntie!"

"It's fine, Lily –"

"Come with us," Harry urged. He still wanted to talk to her and find out what's wrong with her. He pointed at the small figure in her hand. "Are you going to buy that? Let me."

"No, Harry –"

"How much?" Harry asked the witch vendor, ignoring Hermione's protests altogether, as he pulled out his wallet.

"Three Knuts and a Galleon," answered the witch. "For an extra, I could put out a small broom to go along with it."

"Harry Potter, don't you dare –"

"I'll take it," said Harry firmly. He took out the amount and paid the witch, who then handed Hermione the small broom that belonged to Viktor Krum.

"You really didn't have to do that," Hermione told him as the witch pushed the cart away and she, Harry, and Lily started to walk down the path of games.

"Do you miss him?" Harry asked boldly, shocking himself. He isn't usually so forward. But the anger burning within him to see Hermione holding the small figure of someone she used to date made him feel riled up.

"Viktor? Hmm, I guess I do a little bit," Hermione confessed as she watched the collectable figure float in circles above her hand on his broom. "We do still keep in contact from time to time but it would be nice to see him in person again. I haven't seen him since my wedding. Last I heard from him was that he was going to South America but that was years ago. I haven't heard from him since then."

Harry grunted, glaring at the small Viktor, feeling a bit sad. He knew she meant is as a friendly way when she admitted she does miss Viktor but it still felt like a knife stabbing him in the back. He finally understood why Ron acting so rashly towards Hermione when he learned she had kissed Viktor in their fourth year. The thought of another man doing the things he wishes to do to the woman he loves was frustrating and hurtful. It was almost like a betrayal to know Hermione misses Viktor, like her doing that was reserved only for him, although they were not together nor she knew about his feelings towards her.

"Wait, Is that why – oh Harry, no," gasped Hermione, realization dawning on her face. "I didn't want to buy him because I miss him or anything. I was actually thinking of buying him because of Rose. She has been smitten of him since she learned Ron and I know him."

"Like mother, like daughter," grinned Harry, feeling an ounce of relief hit him to learn this. She was thinking of her daughter, not the Bulgarian Seeker.

Hermione blushed and looked away, making Harry laugh. And then, his laughter was cut short, when a loud gong boomed hard within the trees and all heads in the field turned towards the stadium as it started to light up. The floating lanterns all moved together into a straight line in the air to light the path to the entrance.

"It's time," Harry said, feeling the excitement seen on the many face rushing past him as people started to race towards the entrance. He took Lily's hand and kept her close. "Guess we'll meet the others inside. We're all in the same section, right?"

Hermione was already searching in her purse and took out her ticket. "Section Two-Forty-Five, Row One-Ninety-Nine. Oh, Arthur must have gotten us prime seats this year. He really went all-out for the kids. Thank heavens they built in lifts because I'm still sore from the trip here. I don't think mum would have gone past Row Thirty-Two."

"Aww," Lily pouted, "but I never got to play Snapping Squares."

"When we meet up with the others, you can show Hugo your kit," Harry pointed out.

Lily's face bright up once again and her pout was replaced with a beaming smile that seem to shine brighter than the lanterns above as they pushed their way along with the crowd.

* * *

The atmosphere has turned from a calm anticipation to an infectious excitement the moment after Harry and the girls have entered the stadium and Hermione got her purse checked out. Harry was brought back to his first time in a professional Quidditch match, like he is every other season per year, as he caught snippets of conversations from the people around them; bets were being made, team anthems are being sung, jokes were being thrown around, and future predictions were heard. Harry grinned. It was good to be back to his favorite place again.

The difference from how the stadium use to look back then was, as Hermione said, the lifts at the end of the hall as carts after carts were rapidly zooming upward continuously in a glass tube, where Harry can see them stop in a slot while the upcoming cart past them. Extra Hallways were also added to avoid traffic collisions. Advertisements appeared then disappeared on the walls in bright gold color; Swish! No Dust Is Safe – reaches impossible spots and edges…Ms. Cal's Tangles Forgotten Bygones: Sleek and Shine…Silverwear: Be the most fanciable wizard of the party!...Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – Diagon Alley…

When they reached the lifts, they dumped their tickets in the goblet next to them and a white flame raged brightly before their tickets shot back out to them, burned around the seat number. Harry could hear the people behind them murmuring in disbelief and envy as they stepped in the cart and the gate closed behind them automatically.

"Hold on tight," Harry told Lily while holding onto the railing on the sides. Lily complied obediently.

Harry held his breath as the cart shot upward, feeling gravity pushing him down. The push did not feel awful, despite the deep feeling in his stomach, as much as the lifts in the Ministry did. It was actually simple, easy, and very quick. The trip was over the moment he blinked his eyes and he soon found himself stepping into a lone hallway with doors on either left or right of Harry's vision. He heard the cart vanish behind him.

"Row One-Ninety-Nine," murmured Hermione, looking at the number signs hanging from the rooftop, as they walked down the hallway, "is this way."

She opened a door that read 180 – 200 and they find themselves entering a box filled with many popularly known wizards and witches. The room was made out entirely of glass, pointed downward to the oval field, giving an excellent view to the occupants of opposite three goals. Other sections can be seen being quickly filled, seeing multiple colorful flags flaring around, horns being blown loudly, and echoed ecstatic chatter roaming throughout the stadium. Harry could even see a couple of Auror escorting out some wizards who seem to have gotten out of hand and started a brawl in Section Twenty.

"Harry! Hermione! Over here!"

Harry tore his eyes away from the view and looked down at the second row at the front; Ron was waving at them, holding his old pair of Omniculars that Harry bought for him before their fourth year, while the others were settling in their chairs, trying to balance out the trays of food and drinks on their laps. Lily had skipped over to them and taken a seat next to an impatient who, immediately showing him her kit. Harry and Hermione walked to the row. Harry could see Ginny looking at them suspiciously.

"We were hoping to find you here," said Ron as Hermione took the remaining seat next to him and Harry stayed standing. "I only managed to find Teddy nearby the player's tents."

"We were by the games," replied Harry. "I couldn't pull Lily away."

"Same with Hugo," said Ron, nodding towards his son beside him, who was enthusiastically comparing his prizes with Lily. "Little tyke was on a roll with the Snapping Squares. He got his picture taken for the wall of record breakers. Luckily he finished before the gong. And good thing you two made it too – the spectacular opening is about to start."

Hermione glanced around the stadium. "I don't see Kingsley anywhere. I bumped into him earlier today - he said he's going to be present."

Harry stiffened at the mentioning of the adored Minister. He hadn't known that Kingsley would be at the match at all – he did not spoke of it earlier when he visited him at his office. He hoped Kingsley would not bring up his request while he is with his family.

"Oh, there he is!" Hermione said, taking the Omniculars from Ron's hands and using them to stare across the stadium as she turned the knob on the side. She made a retching sound. "Is that Malfoy?"

"What?" Ron took back the Omniculars and stared at the same direction Hermione was. He did the same disgusted sound. "That _is_ Malfoy! What is that slimy git doing here? What's Kingsley doing with _him_ here?"

"If you read more than the sports section in the papers, you would know, Ron," retorted Ginny. "If you remember, Malfoy is one of the Head Healers at St. Mungo's and he has been discussing with Kingsley for months to increasing the funding of the hospital and to construct a new building."

"I read about that," said Hermione. "Some of the young wizards have been going out of control with their magic lately and Malfoy managed to find the problem in one of his patients; their cells have been coated with some weird potion and neither of the students remember taking it. People think it's some sort of drug developed and kids just being irresponsible. Malfoy wants the new building to do research on the potion and find the antidote for it."

"Draco Malfoy taking his time in helping other wizards?" Ron snorted. "That's a laugh."

Harry snickered, shaking his head. He took his seat between Ginny and Ron, feeling relieved to finally get the pressure off his ankle. It has been throbbing since his landing from the Portkey and he did not bring any concerns to it but as he felt the pain alleviate, he was beginning to think he might have actually sprained it. He hoped Mr. Weasley decided to bring the small emergency kit like he always does on these trips.

Ginny leaned closer to him. "Where were you? You disappeared from me. I couldn't find you anywhere in the crowds."

"I was with Lily at the games," Harry whispered back. "She wanted to win some prizes. I tell you, she might as well buy the whole area. She won one from every stand."

"But you came in with Hermione," murmured Ginny.

Harry blinked. "Yeah, we bumped into her at merchandises. They announced the match starting so we came together. Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing," Ginny replied quickly before leaning back in her seat and staring ahead. Harry knew it was beyond _'nothing'_ because he can see the thoughtful look in her eyes.

"Ginny –" he began but then he heard the buzzing chatter of the box die down and looked out in the field to see Kingsley standing on a floating podium in the center.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN…WELCOME!" Kingsley's voice boomed loudly throughout the stadium, bouncing off the hallways and ringing out onto the field, making the sounds of the packed stadium to be cut off. "WELCOME TO THE SEMI-FINALS OF THE FOUR HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOUR QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!"

Applause roared from every section of the stadium, along with horns blown crazily, colors trailing behind every flag being waved erratically, confetti of team colors being tossed and clashing with each other, and high screams from the spectators. In the box, the wizards behind Harry were up from their seats, howling as loud as they could, and in his row, Ron, George, Angelina, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, and the kids were hopping and waving their arms over their heads. Carol and Hermione were merely standing and clapping. Hermione was not a huge fan of Quidditch like everyone else is but even Harry could see that the spirit of the sport was getting to her with the way her eyes shone and how big her smile was. Carol also seems to be engulfed in the excitement of the air.

"IT IS MY GREATEST HONOR TO BE HERE TO PRESENT THIS YEAR'S QUIDDITCH MATCH! WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, WELCOME – THE PUDDLEMERE UNITED! PRESENTING – JOCELIND WADCOCK – DEAN THOMAS –"

Harry and the group screamed at the top of their lungs as they see the navy-blue clad figure of their oldest companion shot out into the field from the entrance below and performed elegant maneuvers in the air that got his supporters wild in applause and shrieks from his female admirers. Out of everyone from the group, Ginny's yells were the loudest.

" _DEAN YOU BETTER NOT MESS UP A PASS OR I'LL COME OUT THERE AND HEX YOU IN FRONT OF THIS WHOLE STADIUM!_ " She shouted, not caring that she was making the others laugh at her competitive nature.

" – BENGLY WILLIAMS – ALBERT ROBINS – JOAN MARCUS – TROY RICH – AND OLIVER WOOD!"

As another wave of cheer went through the row for their eldest school companion, Harry had taken Ginny's Omniculars to have a clearer sight of the seven navy-blue players and watched the two golden crossed bulrushes of their cloaks flutter along with the wind behind them as they performed fantastic tricks together.

"AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE WELCOME – THE CHUDLEY CANONS! I GIVE YOU – ALAN WHITE – JOSEPH PARK – JOEY JENKINS – DRAGOMIR GORGOVITCH – MAL COAL – ALFIE LEWIS – AND COLE MCCARTNEY!"

"The reserved Seeker," grumbled Ron, trailing after the scrawny orange-clad player through his Omniculars. "He hasn't played a single game in centuries. It's a miracle he hasn't resigned years ago and it's obvious he hasn't done anything to stay in shape. He better do well in this match in memory of Galvin Gudgeon. If he doesn't, he'll not only be the laughing stock, but he'll be the most hated man in the world."

"Very enthusiastic, little brother," snorted George. "With that sort of faith in your team, I can tell the Puddlemere's have already won."

"Keep telling yourself that," Ron said.

"AND, COMING ALL THESE WAY FROM THE MINISTRY OF THE UNITED STATES AS OUR REFEREE FOR THE NIGHT, MEMBER OF THE MAGICAL GAMES AND SPORTS, ETHAN MORGAN!" announced Kingsley.

Harry decided to stand from his seat, not pay attention to the pain in his ankle, and join the others by the railing to watch the bleach blond wizard, wearing black silky robes and holding his own broom, carried the familiar wooden crate to the center of the field. Harry could feel the anticipating leaking from the audience as they watched him intently, and he zoomed his Omniculars on the wizard as he mounted his broomstick then kicked the crate open, making all four balls spring up to the air. Harry could not help himself from following the snitch the moment he saw it in the crate, his old Seeker instincts coming to life.

"AND THEY'RE OFF!" narrated Kingsley. "AND THOMAS SEIZES THE QUAFFLE!"

"YES!" cheered Ginny and Angelina excitedly, waving their hands over their heads.

Harry watched closely through the Omniculars as Dean sped across the field, clutching the Quaffle under his arm. He had played with Dean in the Gryffindor Quidditch team in their sixth year and by then he knew that the dark-skinned wizard the an excellent addition as a start-up Chaser with his tremendous speed and accurate passing but seeing him now, Harry felt like he was seeing this side of Dean for the first time. The old companion has obviously improved his abilities since Harry last played with him as he seemed like a blurred blue zooming even if he slowed down the motion with his Omniculars. He tried to keep track of Dean as Kingsley continued to do his commentary.

"AND THOMAS DOES A NEAT PASS TO WADCOCK – BACK TO THOMAS – HE DODGES A BLUDGER AIMED AT HIM BY JENKINS – PASSES IT BACK TO MARCUS – NO GOOD! INTERCEPTED BY GORGOVITCH AND OFF HE GOES WITH THE QUAFFLE!"

"Dean, you twit!" groaned Ginny, hiding her face in her hands in shame. "They were obviously baiting you with that Bludger!"

"GORGOVITCH PASSES IT TO COAL – DODGES BEATER ROBINS, PASSES IT BACK TO GORGOVITCH – A NEAT PASS BACK TO COAL – HE GOES IN FOR THE SC – NO, HE IS STOPPED BY AN EXCELLENT BLOCK BY KEEPER WOOD AND THE PUDDLEMERES HAVE THE QUAFFLE IN THEIR POSSESSION WITH WADCOCK GIVING A NICE WHIRL AROUND THE BLUDGER SENT HER WAY BY BEATER WHITE – OOH BUT SHE WAS QUICKLY HIT BY A SECOND BLUDGER SENT BY JENKINS TO THE CHEST! – LEWIS HAS THE QUAFFLE AND HE'S GOING IN DIRECT SPEED AT THE GOALS – HE TAKES AIM AND SHOOTS – WOOD GOES IN FOR THE SAVE – ONLY TO BE HIT BY A BLUDGER BY WHITE – CHUDLEY CANNONS SCORES!"

Orange flags are seen being flared around as the supporters of the team filled the stadium in cheers and shouts while the Puddlemere fans groaned and moaned in despair. Harry could hear some of the wizards behind him to get in a heated discussion on whether the Bludger hitting Oliver was a foul or not but then he heard his name brought up in the conversation and they became silent. He supposed they thought he was in duty. From either side of him, he can hear the same topic happening between Ron and Ginny.

"YES!" Ron was shouting, "GO CANNONS!"

"Come off it Ron, that would have been a clean score if White hadn't hit Oliver with that Bludger," said Ginny. "You know he's one of the best Keepers we know and he would have gotten it if Lewis didn't have help."

"Team sport, Ginny, team sport," Ron retorted. "That's how the game is played."

"I bet you ten Galleons that when one of your Chasers goes in for a score – and without help from the others – that Oliver will catch it," said Ginny, holding out her hand across from in front of Harry.

Ron did not hesitate to shake hands with her and grinned confidently, "Deal."

"Look! Marcus has the Quaffle!" shouted Mr. Weasley, pointing anxiously at the player. "Look at her go!"

"PUDDLEMERE IN POSSESSION –" Kingsley was saying, "BEATER RICH BLOCKS A BLUDGER FROM MARCUS AND HITS IT BACK TO WHITE – HE IS OUT! – RICH PASSES TO THOMAS – COAL INTERCEPTS – NO! AN OUTSTANDING MOVE BY THOMAS AND HE CATCHES IT – HE SPEEDS TO THE GOALS – TAKES AIM – A BLUDGER BY JENKINS COMES HIS WAY – WILLIAMS IS TOO FAR TO ASSIST HIM – WAIT! WHAT WAS THAT? – THOMAS SUDDENLY HOPS FROM HIS BROOM – THE BLUDGER MISSES – HE SHOOTS THE QUAFFLE – MCCARTNEY GOES IN – HE MISSED! – PUDDLEMERE SCORES!"

Fan shot up from their seats, nearly every section coming to life, whistling, blowing their horns hard, waving their flags, and holding up signs. Some of them have climbed on the rails, which resulted in the Aurors to take action to keep control, and some even used their wands to create a flashing sign that read THOMAS IS OUR #1. In his box, he could hear Lily shrieking very high that Harry thought she might strain her throat, and Hugo had a revolted look on his face.

"That should be a foul! A foul!" Ron was seething. "As brilliant as it was, it's not allowed! You can't just jump off your broom like that! Brooms are a critical part of the sport! What's that ref doing? Does this yank know what he's doing?"

"I don't know, Ron," mused Harry while watching Dean's image is seen appearing on the blackboard above the scoreboard, seeing him pump his fist in the air and clap hands with his teammates. "If catching a Snitch with my mouth is legal, I think Dean hopping off his broom is too. All that matters is scoring, isn't it?"

Ron went pink. "Th-that's different! This is professional Quidditch! Rules matter here!"

"What's the matter, Ron?" Ginny grinned. "Afraid to lose your Galleons?"

"You wish," scoffed Ron, rolling his eyes before he resumed watching the match go back into play.

Harry took this chance to glance over at Hermione on the other side of Ron as everyone became involved with the play. She was standing next to the kids by the railing, probably making sure that they don't lean too far over it. She also looked to be really into the game as he can see her eyes rapidly trailing after the player, gasping surprisingly at the tricks they do, also in dread to see other being plummeted by the Bludger, and then she would go along with the cheer of the crowd, not as loudly, but enough to show her excitement. Harry smiled; he was glad to see her having such a great time. For as long as he could remember, all he saw from Hermione was stress, sadness, anger, and self-loathing, a person he does not recognize so to see her the way she is now, reverting back into the best friend he has known for years, brought glee in his heart.

"- AND WOOD COMES BACK WITH A NICE BLOCK AT COAL'S SHOT – PUDDLEMERE TAKES THE QUAFFLE AGAIN –" Kingsley's voice rang; Harry saw that he had been too focused on Hermione that he had missed the past five minutes of the game and he asked Ron what had happened. Apparently, the Chudley Cannons were attempting to make a fierce comeback, in Ron's words, by making a superb defensive formation that was helping them break through the Puddlemere's offense and the play had gone smoothly until Chaser Coal's shot had been stopped my Oliver's block. It was unfortunate for Ron because he ended up losing the bet and paying Ginny the two Galleons, all the while grumbling, "Lucky shot."

Harry turned his attention back to the game. Only eight minutes of the game have passed and it had gotten more brutal and too quick. He felt like he was watching a thousand Golden Snitches flying at once as the players zoomed across the field, clashing, tossing the Quaffle, and scoring without a halt in their moves. He glanced up at the scoreboard and was shocked to see how far in points both teams have gotten in such little time. PUDDLEMERE: 50, CANNONS: 60. It got him thinking, how long has he truly been staring at Hermione?

"BLUDGERS ARE FLYING AROUND AS THE CHUDLEY CANNONS BEATERS WHITE AND JENKINS KEEP ON HITTING THEM TOWARDS THE PUDDLEMERE CHASERS BUT RICK AND WILLIAMS CONTINUE TO BLOCK – MARCUS PASSES IT TO WADCOCK JUST AS LEWIS WENT IN FOR A STEAL – WADCOCK PASSES IT TO THOMAS – COAL TRIES TO INTERCEPT – MISSES – OH BUT GORGOVITCH MANAGES AND IS HEADING TOWARDS THE GOAL! – PUDDLEMERE CHASERS GO AFTER HIM – A BLUDGER GOES HIS WAY BY WILLIAMS – AND WHAT'S THIS? – A COUNTER-HIT BY WHITE AND THE BLUDGER HITS WADCOCK –"

Harry winced as the Bludger comes in contact with Wadcock's head and watched in displeasure to see the Chaser's figure flung down to the ground. Frightened screams and cries are heard coming from the navy-blue clad supporters as it seems the Quidditch player is showing no signs of returning to her broom and she was free falling headfirst.

"He's going to crash!" screamed Lily, grasping her hair tightly as she watched in horror.

Noticing she was right, Harry quickly whipped out his wand and aimed it at the unconscious player and shouted, " _Arresto Momentum!_ " his voice heard breaking through the shouts of the stadium. He watched in relief as the velocity of Wadcock's body slowed into a stop a few inches from the ground before he plopped on his back. Gratitude was being aimed towards Harry from the Puddlemere fans whilst he pocketed his wand. He could even see his image being shown on the blackboard overhead as a fairy flew by his box holding a mirror but he paid no attention to it.

"Daddy, you saved him!" praised Lily as she hopped towards her father and gave him a big hug. "You're a hero!"

"That was wild, Uncle Harry!" said Hugo. "You got to teach me that when I get my first wand!"

Harry laughed as his nephew joined Lily in embracing him thankfully. He patted on each of their heads. He felt a kiss on his cheek and he knew it was Ginny since she was the only one standing on his right. Multiple pats on his shoulders were felt coming from wizards behind him, each of them thanking him and acknowledging his achievement in saving Wadcock's life yet he brought no mind to them. He was more focused on Hugo and Lily.

"A TIME-OUT IS CALLED BY TH PUDDLEMERE TEAM CAPTAIN!"said Kingsley's voice. "MEDIWIZARDS ARE NOW ON THE FIELD TO EXAMINE JOCELIND WADCOCK!"

"Is she dead?" asked Carol as she leaned over the railing to have a clearer look at the group of Mediwizards and the Puddlemere team surrounding the unmoving body of Wadcock, a horror-struck expression on her face.

"I don't think so," replied George, peering through his Omniculars, "yeah – just knocked out. Although she does have a bloody nose now. That was a nasty hit she took – right in the face!"

"How is something this dangerous a sport?" Carol asked Hermione.

The brunette shrugged. "I ask myself the same question every time."

"Don't pretend you don't love it, Hermione," George grinned. "I saw you doing your little dance when the Puddlemere scored."

"I don't know what you're –"

"You're going for the Puddlemeres?" Ron asked in shock with a wounded expression. "They're going against my favorite team! You're supposed to support my team!"

"I'm not going for anybody!" said Hermione pointedly. "I remain unbiased."

"But mummy, you have to go for the Chudley Cannons!" Hugo pleaded. "You don't want to be on the losing team while we go to the finals!"

Lily, overhearing the conversation, glared at her cousin. "Who said the Chudley Cannons are going to the finals! You got it all wrong – Puddlemere United is going to the finals!"

"Tell that to your beloved Chaser!" Hugo grinned as he pointed down at the field.

"That's because your team cheated!"

"Cheated? _Cheated_? That was a clean counter-hit and you know it! Your Chaser just doesn't know how to take a hit!"

"At least my team's Beater doesn't need to hit the Keeper to get a score!"

Harry just let the kids go on with their entertaining debate, since they do it every year, and went back to looking around at the stadium, seeing everyone were either talking among themselves or intently watching as the Mediwizards treated on the wounded player with goblets full of healing potions and drops of Dittany on her bleeding nose. He saw the Puddlemere Beaters, Williams and Rich, arguing furiously with the referee, Nathan, clearly about how the injury should be resulted into a foul. They were pointing at the Chudley Cannons, who were floating in the air, looking pleased. Nathan, however, seemed adamant with his choice. It was the rash choice of Rich stepping up and gripping Nathan by his robes that made the referee blow a loud whistle.

"PENALTY TO PUDDLEMERE UNITED!" declared Kingsley and a howl of rage was the response from the navy-blue supporters. "IT DOES NOT SEEM TO BE GOING WELL FOR THE TEAM – OH, I STAND CORRECTED! – WADCOCK IS BACK ON HER FEET!"

Indeed Wadcock was standing high and proud on her feet, causing a gleeful ruckus to her team's supporters, and she quickly mounted on her broom after she got it from one of the Mediwizards and kicked off to the air with her teammates following her. Nathan, after sending the two angered Beaters back up the air, blew his whistle again, and the game was back in actions as all players floated around in a combined circle high in the air. One of the Chasers of the Chudley Cannons, Gorgovitch, was given the Quaffle, and Oliver Wood, with reluctance, stayed at a respectable distance away from the goals, as Gorgovitch took the free shot. As soon as it was done, the game came back to its intense pace.

"AND THEY'RE OFF AGAIN – WADCOCK IS COMING BACK TWICE AS STRONG AS SHE TAKES THE QUAFFLE – SHE'S ZOOMING ACROSS THE FIELD WITH INCREDIBLE SPEED! – DODGING ALL CHASERS AND BEATERS AND BLUDGERS ALTOGETHER – SHE PASSES TO THOMAS – THOMAS QUICKLY PASSES IT BACK TO WADCOCK – PASSES IT TO MARCUS – MARCUS TAKES A DIVE – SHE'S GOING FOR THE SHOT – NO! IT WAS A FAKE! – SHE PASSES IT TO THOMAS – THOMAS TAKES THE SHOT – MCCARTNEY GOES TO SAVE – BUT WHAT'S THIS? – WADCOCK INTERCEPTED THE SHOT AND SHOOTS AT THE OTHER GOAL – PUDDLEMERE SCORES!"

"Now that's what I call a comeback!" shouted Angelina, shaking George enthusiastically by his shoulders. "Did you see that combination? Amazing! And the way Wadcock took the whole team by herself? Brilliant!"

Harry couldn't agree more. He was amazed at the dubious speed that the Puddlemere were going in as he kept trying to follow them with his Omniculars but barely could. They were going at a level that also seemed to go beyond his Firebolt. He managed to catch the Quaffle for a millisecond before it disappears in a blur. He did not want to slow down the motion in fear he might miss this fantastic event. Then he groaned, along with the whole crowd when the Chudley Cannon Beater Jenkins' club cracked at the hit he gave to a Bludger and it collided into the Puddlemere Seeker Robins, causing him to tumble over his broom. But he was able to recover quick enough to keep a firm grasp on his wound while he kept his other arm tucked close to his chest. It was obviously broken.

"A TERRIBLE BLOW TO ROBINS!" said Kingsley; a whistle came from the referee. "A PENALTY TO THE CHUDLEY CANNONS; UNNECESSARY ASSERTIVENESS! – FREE SCORE TO THE PUDDLEMERE!"

The orange clad clans booed and were angrily shouting at the referee that is was a clean hit. But he paid no attention to them as the players went back to a circle yet again and he went to give the Quaffle to one of the Puddlemere Chasers.

"Is it me or has this sport gotten more…rough?" asked Hermione while watching the Chaser take the shot; it was good.

"It has," Ron answered, never taking his eyes off the game as it resumed to normal play. "A lot of the rules were changed and it made it a lot better. I heard a rumor that because of the rules, the players or any new recruits need to sign a waiver in case they get injured or…killed. But it's probably just someone trying to take the mickey out of me."

"I don't know…from what we're seeing here…the rumors could be true," Hermione said. "And with the number of Aurors and Ministry officials here, it seems that it's not the game that we should be worried about…" she trailed off, glancing back at the wizards behind them, who seem to be angered at how the match was becoming, and she instinctively placed a hand on Hugo's shoulder, pulling him closer to her. Hugo did not seem to notice; he was too busy shouting and cheering.

Harry saw the concern in her eyes and shook his head. "There's nothing to worry about, 'Mione. It's just for safety protocol. The Ministry came up with it since the riot that happened in the 2015 Quidditch World Cup. It was…uncontrollable. The whole game had to be cancelled to break it up. But it's okay now. Knowing Kingsley – he's got my most elite Aurors on guard here at the stadium while the juniors are on guard at the wards to keep any Muggles out. There's nothing to worry about."

His words seem to relax her. She gave him a small smile before turning back to the game. Harry stared at her a little longer, pleased to see all worries vanish from her, and he also returned to the game at the same time the referee blew the whistle.

"AND THAT'S THE CALL FOR HALF-TIME!" announced Kingsley as the players zoomed down to the field and sat on their benches for a water break. "NOW, ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE – THE HALF-TIME SHOW!"

"Ahh, good thing they put in half-times – I need to use the loo." groaned Ron as he stretched out his arms over his head.

"Can you throw these away while you're at it, Ron?" Mr. Weasley asked as he handed the empty food and drink containers to his son. "Oh, but don't throw away the cup – I need a refill."

"And suddenly I'm turned into a server," grumbled Ron as he tried to balance the containers in his arms.

"I'll help you out, mate," insisted Harry as he took a couple of the containers in his arms and started to slide out of the row. "I need to go to the loo too anyway."

"Cheers," Ron sighed in relief as he and Harry started to trudge up the stairs to the door leading to the corridors.

"Be back before half-time ends!" called out Ginny.

"Okay!" answered Harry while Ron just gave a half-wave over his shoulder without looking back at her.

* * *

Harry felt very much mellow as he relieved himself. After he and Ron disposed the containers in the nearest trash chute, they immediately went to the restroom closest to their section but unfortunately, the other wizards also had the same idea as them as they were greeted by a long line that seemed to go along for miles. Neither of the two best friends wanted to wait and were even considering in apparating to their tent to use the bathroom there but they knew that the force of the Apparation would have caused them to make a wet mark on their fronts so they ended up going along with the line. It felt like hours until there were finally urinals and stalls available.

The restroom was becoming empty as wizards were leaving and clearly returning to their seat, eager to watch the half-time show, which Harry an assume were a couple of veelas dancing erotically and mesmerizingly. He can imagine many witches berating their husbands for looking at the veelas languidly, some of the mothers covering the eyes of their daughter and plucking the ears of their sons, couple getting into arguments, and single wizards being easily fantasized. He hoped neither of the male Aurors were caught in the sensual trance of the veelas. He could picture George getting smacked in the head by Angelina if he didn't cover his ears, Mr. Weasley probably brought earplugs in preparation, Carol asking Hermione what were the veelas while Hermione shielded Hugo from the veelas, and Ginny is mostly likely keeping Lily distracted. He was glad Ron decided to go to the restroom at this time because, no matter how much he is expecting it, he always seems to get caught by the veelas and ends up getting made at Hermione for slapping him awake.

He could faintly hear the booming music and loud cheering coming from the field vibrating through the walls of the restroom. Several toilets flushed, sinks were turned on, and the door was heard opening constantly as wizards entered and left the restroom. The toilet in the stall beside his flush and the door open and he knew Ron was finished. One of the sinks was turned on, the sound helping him relieve himself quicker.

"Some match, eh?" asked Ron clearly over the rushing water of the sink as Harry finally finished, zipped up his trousers, flushed the toilet, before he exited the stall and went to the sink next to Ron. There was one wizard using the sink on the far end but aside from him, there was no one else. He strikes odd to Harry with the way he is dressed; a long coat with the collar up and wearing heavy sunglasses indoors. But then he saw the wizard carefully move towards the paper towels, using his hands to guide him to it, and Harry knew he was blind.

"Definitely," said Harry. "I'll admit the Chudley Cannons have gotten much rougher than I anticipated. I think even the Puddlemeres weren't expecting them to fight back so hard."

Ron grinned. "Told you! Never underestimate the underdog – they come back with a hard bite!"

"Yeah," Harry chuckled. "But don't misunderstand me saying that like I'm going for the Chudley Cannons just because they surprised me. I'm still going for the Puddlemeres – they're just warming up. Bet to you after the break, they're making a comeback."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Some mate you are, going against my team like that."

Harry laughed as he turned off the faucet and went to get paper towel to dry his hands. He heard the door open and close; the unknown wizard was gone.

"So," said Ron and the air around them suddenly shifted heavy, "how you been?"

Harry shrugged. "Been good I guess."

"No nightmares? Or flashbacks?"

"I had one last night – about the mission in Montana. But I managed to get through it. Teddy was awake at the time and he took me out for a flight. Little git still thinks he could beat me in a race."

"Should have tagged me along – I would have beaten you two."

"It was at the middle of the night, Ron, and you're hard to wake up," Harry pointed out. "You sleep heavier than a rock. And snore like a banshee."

"I don't snore!" growled Ron. "Sheesh!"

"Ron, I shared a dorm with you for six years – I lived in the same flat as you for four more – you snore," Harry said.

"Whatever," Ron muttered as he shut off the sink and went to dry his hands. "But you sure you're okay?" he asked as Harry threw away his used paper towel. "What about tonight? Nothing triggering you or anything?"

"Nothing," Harry shook his head. He couldn't be more relieved to know it's the truth. He hasn't gotten anything to make him have another one of his episodes, as the others call it. He was able to hide it as much from Lily at home and he did not want to scare her or Hugo in front of thousands of people. They didn't need to see that side of me.

"Good." Ron threw away his paper towel. "By the way, thanks for what you did to Hermione. You should have seen how barking mad she was getting when she was going through those law parcels. If I didn't get her away from it, I think she might have pulled out all of her hair."

Harry lets out a somewhat weak laugh at the mentioning of the bright witch. Although a part of him was amused by the image of Hermione going bald from frantic, the other side of him was drowning in guilt as he thought about the night before. His phone call with Hermione felt like a dirty secret (out of the many he is hiding from his best friends) knowing that he was actually flirting with Hermione in his dry way while Ron was only a few feet away from the phone. He doesn't think he could keep it hidden for long – it was wrong. Here Ron was concern over his disorder, questioning his condition for the night, while he is keeping such secrets from him and acting friendly. He really doesn't deserve such a true friend like him – he doesn't deserve Ron to treat him like a brother he never had when he is having selfish thoughts about his wife.

"Yeah, Hermione does tend to go mad," he said softly before sighing, "Ron, about last night…after Teddy and I finished flying…I sort of rang up your house and Hermione answered –"

"Hermione told me about that," Ron interrupted, although he didn't sound angry, which surprised Harry to no end.

"Sh-she did?"

"Yeah, she was really worried about you. Wouldn't shut up about how you had that nightmare. Had to slip her a Calming Draught in her tea so she could sleep."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Ron waved him off. "Don't worry about it. She's fine now, isn't she? And she got cleared of her charges so it's all good. But I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead," said Harry.

"Has she mentioned anything to you? About us?" Ron asked curiously, scratching the side of his nose.

As soon as Ron asked, Harry could hear Hermione's voice ring in his head, her words from the night before replaying in his mind: _"I think it's a good thing for us to spend some time apart and get used to having some space from each other…you know, get some diversity under our belts."_

"Not specifically," he admitted.

"Ah," Ron sighed. "That's weird. I thought she might have told you by now. Guess she thought it'd be best if I was the one to tell you."

Harry blinked. "Tell me what?"

Ron looked at him directly in his eyes as he spoke, the next words leaving Harry numb from the shock hitting him like a Bludger to the face, "Hermione and I are getting a divorce."

"W…What?"

"You heard me."

Harry was blank in the mind. He could not find out what he was feeling either. He was not happy, far from it. The little person in his heart, the one that had supported and wished the best in the long-awaited relationship for his most important people, was wilting in utter depression for his best friends. He actually felt pain from this news. He had seen it transition from hate and ignorance to affection and love throughout the years and seeing the relationship break apart made him feel he was growing apart from something that has been in his life for so long. It was part of his life to see his best friend together and now here is Ron telling him that he and Hermione were going to separate.

Harry felt like everything was moving too fast, faster than his life at Hogwarts has been. First it was Hermione's father being hospitalized – his confusion with Hermione after their kiss – the drift between Hermione and Rose – the memories of him and Hermione flashing at him randomly and letting him see things in Hermione he hadn't realized he saw before – his triggering of his disorder from the mission – the unexplainable distance between Hermione and Ginny – him learning Hugo was being bullied – him discovering his feeling for Hermione to be real – and now he is hearing his best friends are getting a divorce.

So many things were happening in little months. Christmas wasn't even here yet.

"When…did this happen?" Harry asked hesitantly. "When was this decision made?"

"The same day Hermione got the warning of her hearing," said Ron.

Harry's eyes widen. "But…why?"

Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged a shoulder. "Things weren't the same anymore. We were drifting apart and whenever we tried to get closer we end up having a row. I can't complain about now these days – things have been going back to the way they were but they just weren't the same as they used to be. That ' _spark'_ wasn't there anymore."

"But you guys row all the time," Harry pointed out.

"True, but like I said, it's different this time," Ron said. "Before when we row we'd come up with a solution to make it better or sit down and talk about but the way things have been lately…we always seem to rag on each other more just by seeing each other. When we decided to get a divorce, we let out a couple of things, and we seem better. A lot happier than we used to be. I actually feel a lot less stressful too. Mind you, I'm not blaming Hermione for it, but it's nice to be able to let it all go."

"I guess," Harry murmured awkwardly. "But are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mate," Ron answered surprisingly casually. "I was the one who suggested it."

Harry's eyes couldn't have gotten wider. Ron laughed at his reaction.

"Actually, it was a mutual decision," he continued. "Hermione doesn't love me like that anymore too. She was doing the same thing I was doing – holding it off for the kids. But yeah, she loves me like a brother now like I love her like a sister. I still care about her, she still cares about me. I think it's the best decision we made in a long time – we're a lot happier and we're still best friends."

Harry was still too stunned to speak. Especially after what Ron just said; Hermione doesn't love Ron anymore and Ron didn't love Hermione anymore but they were happier as best friends. He thought about how they've been acting and could see the connection to Ron's words – he and Hermione were acting like they used to back in Hogwarts before feelings emerged from them and they do seem to behave more naturally. He never see them kiss, hold hands, cuddle, or look at each other affectionately like they used to in the beginning. The only time he saw any physical contact between them was earlier when Ron took Hermione away for a private conversation and kissed her forehead but even Harry knows that could occur among friend because he does that to Hermione once in a blue moon. And the way Ron kissed Hermione was not lovingly but friendly.

Ron wasn't lying; he and Hermione did look happier as best friends.

"But why don't you love Hermione anymore?" Harry finds himself asking. "You've been in love with her for a long time."

"I guess you could say things changed," said Ron. "Hermione and I…at the beginning, it was a rush, you know. We still went at it with each other but still be there for each other. She was there for me after the war and when things were better, I thought she might have gotten tired of me but she still treated me like I was the greatest man in the world, which I appreciated. I didn't have anyone see me like that before. Then we started to get serious – dated for a couple of years – got jobs – got married – got kids. Everything was sort of different after that. I don't know how to explain it. We were still the same but the way we lived wasn't and that wasn't working out for us. Hermione lived in a time-consuming schedule and I had my own. We started clashing against each other instead of our problems and eventually we were too tired to keep doing it. That's when I realized I didn't need Hermione anymore like I used to."

Harry inhaled sharply. Hearing Ron, who was just as closed up as him when it comes to his deepest emotions and secrets, was a little overwhelming.

"When I start to fancy Hermione it was after I realized she was a girl," Ron continued, "then I started to think about how she was able to put up with me no matter how much of a git I can be and she would consider me through your problems. It made me feel good to know a girl cared about me that much because let's face it – I'm terrible when it comes to them."

Harry and Ron shared an easy laugh. Then the laugh became loud and uncared for as Ron point out fact that neither he nor Ron was really great with girls and that it was a miracle that they even got married. It is always great to have these moments with Ron for Harry. His very first friend now brother. He doesn't think his life is worth continuing if Ron was not by his side going through it with him because that is how it always has been – with Ron by his side to keep him on his feet and bring a little light in his life when everything seemed bleak.

After a minute or two, the two best friends finally sobered up with only a few chuckles coming out here and there, the smiles on their faces once wide and infectious were now reduced to soft and small.

"Anyway," said Harry, a little breathless, "keep going."

"Okay, okay," Ron took a deep breath to regain his composure before continuing. "So as I was saying…I realized I didn't need Hermione anymore. I wasn't using her or anything – I really did love her as a person. Then I realized that I was also in love at the idea of having someone there to motivate me to do better, be better, and Hermione was the one who has been doing that for years. That's what made me to start fancying her sometime in our fourth year. She asked me why I was so bothered by you being in the tournament and you could say it shocked me how she would consider wanting to know my feelings when you're the one who was walking into a death match. I started to notice the little things about her and – you know what? I'm getting off track here," Ron chuckled, shaking his head. "What I'm trying to say is that back then she was there to make me feel like I wasn't completely useless – she still doesn't – then now…I'm doing everything on my own. She's doing her own too. Even when she was back in Hogwarts for her seventh year - I was doing my own thing at the Auror Training Program and she was studying for her N.E.W.T's."

Harry nodded, silently encouraging him.

"I didn't need her to get through the program – I didn't need her when I went on missions because I knew how to hold up my own – I didn't need her when I gave up being an Auror to help George with the shop," Ron sighed. "I didn't even need her to make money or the sales or the deals or anything – I did it all on my own. I was making a name of myself in the marketing business. I didn't need you or Hermione in that. I was confident in myself. And Hermione…I felt like she was just there. I felt like she was just filling the role of a wife and mother to make my life complete and that felt wrong – it didn't feel right to me. Then our problems with Rose and her job started. I didn't really have anybody to talk to about it – I didn't want to bring you or Ginny into it and mum or dad didn't really seem reliable to me at the time. Then…Luna came."

Harry blinked. This was new to him. He knew that sometimes he, Ron, or Hermione would come in contact with some of their old school companions but he never once heard Ron and Luna come together even by accident. They weren't enemies but they weren't close friends like he is with Luna.

"I came across her in Diagon Alley one time. It was sometime after Rose's tenth birthday – she was buying a gift for the twin's birthday at the shop. She sort of _'sensed my aura_ ' and knew I was having problems and she was nice enough to want to listen. So I talked to her and it felt good. She started to give me suggestions, ideas, anything that would help me with Hermione. Kind of giving me an inside of a woman's mind, if you want to see it that way. I kind of liked the feeling of being able to talk to someone without worrying of it turning into a row and losing sleep because I'm angry so I kept in contact with Luna since then and she's been very helpful about the whole thing. Eventually, I started wanting to be around her and just talk to her about anything that isn't about Hermione. You know she does have a weird way of looking at life and the things she's interested in are a bit odd but it sort of grown on me and I…find it entertaining."

Harry was not sure if he imagined it but he thought he saw Ron's cheeks become redder than his hair before the freckled face wizard looked down at his feet and Harry just dismissed it.

"Anyway, I sort of started to get this feeling – like the one I felt when I started to fancy Hermione – but I ignored it and focused on trying to work things out with her," said Ron, almost shyly. "I didn't see Luna in person that much like I wanted to but we would exchange letters and sometimes Floo each other whenever she's away on a trip. And the times when I do see her in person, it's when everyone is together so I would see her with Rolf. Don't get me wrong, Rolf is a good bloke, but when I saw them together, I was…er, jealous. I didn't like it. I started to ignore Luna that one Christmas she spent with us – the one before Rose and Albus started their first year. She would owl and Floo me but I'd never answer. Hermione wasn't home often at the time so she didn't know. Then she came to the shop and…I realized when I saw her…I missed her a lot - I missed talking to her. And I was really happy when I saw her so I apologized to her and she forgave me and we went back to the way we were. We kept in contact for years and…she became one of my best friends."

"Ron…" whispered Harry. He was not sure if his heart should break or soar at the way Ron was speaking to him. He can hear the melancholy and the joy on how he spoke about his brief history with Luna for the past few years. His best friend had fallen for the girl who would read a backwards magazine by her father and wear radishes as earrings, the same girl he had thought to be the weirdest being he ever met yet admired for her originality. And as he listened to him speak, Harry could see how much Ron has truly changed over the years. He was not the same little boy who would take action then think later – he considered Hermione's feelings despite his growing ones for Luna. Before he was never able to fully express his emotions clearly but now he is able to explain what it is that Luna is making him feel, both good and bad. His brother has grown up. He really didn't need Hermione or him anymore.

"Last month was the worst, as you know," Ron kept saying. "I don't think I was able to stand being in the same house as Hermione for two minutes without wanting to rip my hair out. And I felt a little lonely even if I was with Hugo. So I started to invite Luna over for tea or I would go to her house for a playdate for the kids. I told her everything that's been happening and you know what she told me, Harry?" Ron asked with a slight laugh and Harry shook his head no. "She said _'act like a wizard'_. Luna Lovegood, in her own odd way, told me to grow up. Can you believe that? The way she said it made me laugh so hard – I don't think I laugh that much in a long time. And I felt better. I did what she told me and tried to make it work with Hermione, especially when she's been trying to reconnect with me and the kids. But then when everything didn't feel the same – well, you get the idea."

"Yeah," murmured Harry.

Ron bit his lip. "Harry, I love Luna. And I don't mean love – I mean _really love_. As weird and confusing she can be about things, she's a really great person. Half of things she does are worth smiling about. I can't explain it but she's really grown on me."

 _I know the feeling_ , Harry thinks, mentally referring to Hermione. At the thought of her, he hesitantly asked, "And does…?" he trailed off.

Ron nodded. "Hermione knows – I told her. And thank Merlin, she wasn't mad. Yeah, she was upset because she knows I won't be able to be with Luna – her being married and all. But she's happy to know things between us will be okay again. It's like I said, our divorce was a mutual decision."

"I see," Harry did a small smile, glad to know that his best friend will be well again like they used to be. They won't be together anymore but they will be the same people again. "I'm glad to know –"

"She actually told me a couple of things she's been up to too," Ron suddenly said.

Harry's heart skips a beat in fright. "Like what?"

Suddenly Ron's face changed from lighthearted to darkened betrayal and everything happened so fast that Harry did not have time to prepare for what happened; Ron had swung back a balled up fist and smashed a bone-crushing punch on Harry's face, causing his glasses to shatter against the bridge of his nose and fall off, as he stumbled back against the wall behind him. Harry held his nose, feeling liquid dripping down and slipping between his fingers, some of the drops falling on the floor.

"That's for snogging my wife, you prat!" shouted Ron as he flexed his wrist, shaking off the pain in his knuckles. His actions were enough to confirm Harry's fear; Hermione finally told him about the kiss.

"I deserve that," admitted Harry before he felt an impact on the side of his jaw and he was forced spiraling onto the hard floor, his mouth now flooding in his blood. Ron had punched him again and he knew he heard a crack.

"Yeah, and a lot more," growled Ron as he towered over his fallen friend.

"I can explain –"

"You better have a good explanation!" Ron demanded. "How could you snog my wife behind my back? How could you not tell me? And Ginny? What about her, huh? Were you ever planning to tell her?"

He pulled a fist back, ready to throw another hit.

"Because I didn't want to hurt you or Ginny!" Harry said quickly, holding a hand out to block the upcoming hit. "I didn't mean for it to happen, Ron, it just did. It's not like I was planning to do this –"

"But it did happen," Ron pointed out, still holding out his punch. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't walk out of his and tell Ginny about that? Give me one and you better choose your words carefully."

"Because she needs to hear it from me," responded Harry. "Just like you heard it from Hermione – Ginny deserves to hear it from me too."

It seems his words have reached Ron because he lowered his fist and Harry slowly dropped his hand, cautiously staring at him in case signs of attack showed. Ron was still glaring holes into Harry, his face was red, almost purplish, in pent up anger, and he was also shaking like he was trying to tame himself, but he was not speaking.

"Ron, I'm sorry," Harry said honestly. "I really didn't mean to snog Hermione that night. She was really sad and I was just doing whatever I could to make her feel a little better. We had a round of bourbon and she –"

"You took advantage of her? You know she has low tolerance!"

"No, I didn't take advantage of her," Harry said as calmly as he could. "I know she can't hold her alcohol but I wasn't letting her drink just to do that to her. She really needed it and I just let her because I knew she would have passed out soon but the kiss…I wasn't expecting that. I really had no intentions to do that. I was just trying to comfort her as a friend."

"Friend, right," scoffed Ron, rolling his eyes.

"It's the truth!"

"You want to talk about truth? Then tell me this," snarled Ron, "why didn't you stop her? When she snogged you, why didn't you stop her?"

"I don't know."

Harry knew that was a lie. He knew now why he didn't stop her back then. But he couldn't admit to Ron that he is in love with Hermione. Not when he is already facing with one betrayal.

"Why did you do it?"

"I don't know."

"Why didn't you say anything about it to me and Ginny?"

"I already told you – I didn't want to hurt either of you."

"And how's that working out for you?"

Harry touched his nose and winced as he can feel it throbbing. "Not so well."

"Exactly," Ron said, gritting his teeth. "You're a foul right git, you know that?"

"I know." Harry looked down at the blood drops. "I know. I'm sorry."

Ron stared at him for a few minutes, his glare softening a bit, before shaking his head and turning away from Harry. He went to take Harry's broken glasses from the floor and then turned back to him with a hand stretched out. Harry cautiously accepted his hand and allowed him to heave him up to his feet.

"You should fix that," Ron muttered, handing Harry his glasses.

Harry took out his wand and stared at his glasses momentarily. It felt odd for him to have to fix his own glasses. Hermione is normally the one repairing them the moment she sees them but he knew she cannot know how they got broken this time – this was between him and Ron. So he whispered, " _Oculus Reparo!_ " and every piece of his lenses flew back into one, and he placed them back on his face.

"I don't know what it is you're doing, Harry, but if this is some sort of game of yours –"

"It's not a game, Ron, I wouldn't never do that to them," said Harry reproachfully.

"So why let it happen?" Ron demanded.

"I…I don't know," Harry mumbled. He knew why he let it happen but he doesn't know why he is letting it happen now.

"Don't give me any of that shite, Harry, there has to be a reason," Ron said. His jaw was clenched out of frustration. "Need I remember that whatever it is you're doing will not only hurt my baby sister but it will hurt Hermione – _our_ best friend, Hermione!"

"Hermione and I already talked about it and we're fine," Harry retorted, "it's Ginny I'm worried about."

"Trust me, it will Hermione too," Ron mumbled.

Harry raised a brow. "And why would it hurt Hermione?"

Ron opened his mouth but he stopped himself from speaking. He seemed like he was going to respond to Harry's question then he started to think about it for a second before he closed his mouth and shook his head.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Not my place to talk about it."

"What are you –"

"Look, Harry, if you don't want to tell me whatever it is the reason that made you muck up everything – you need to confess to Ginny about everything. And I mean _everything_! Like you said, she deserves to hear it from you. She deserves to hear it no matter what." Ron jabbed a finger against Harry's chest. "Because if you don't tell her a word of this, I will. I don't care if she doesn't believe me or hates me for telling her this, as long as she knows in the end – you better tell her, Potter, got it?"

Harry nodded. "Ron, I –"

"Let's hurry up and join the others," said Ron, already turning away and walking towards the entrance. "They're probably wondering what's taking us so long and I still haven't gotten dad's refill yet. I gotta make a long way to the food stands all for a bloody –"

Ron's voice trailed off as Harry watched him walk towards the exit. To say he did not feel any admiration towards the way how Ron handled the situation would be a complete lie. He was proven once more in the same night, in the same room that Ron has truly grown up. It isn't the first time that he acted all overprotective towards Ginny but they were little things like " _Don't get her pregnant at a young age_ " or " _I better not see any bruises on her_ " and right now, Ron just learned that he, Harry, had cheated on his young sister with his wife (soon to be ex-wife) and their best friend – the biggest betrayal. Ron did not deserve this like Ginny didn't deserve Harry's unfaithfulness. They both deserved to have the truth of everything has he has done, has thought about, has said –

"It happened because it's Hermione," Harry found himself saying; Ron whirled around with confusion etched on his face. Harry continued speaking, "Ron…I didn't mean for it to happen but…" he inhaled deeply and kept his eyes on Ron's apprehensive face, "I'm in love with Hermione."

Ron's face broke out in shock, just as Harry expected, but he was left surprised that he did not see the same anger Ron had showed seconds ago. He was mouthing wordlessly like he was a fish out of water, the shock in his face slowly dissolving into one of disbelief and wonder.

"Wha –"

"I didn't mean to," Harry said, "I really didn't but I am. Ever since that night with her father – I've been feeling different around her and not acting normal sometimes and – I found out last night how I really feel about her. I'm sorry, Ron."

Ron just kept silent with the same look on his face, not moving an inch. Harry was starting to feel antsy.

"Please say something," he pleaded weakly and he got the reaction he asked for, just not in the tone he was waiting for.

"BLOODY HELL!" bellowed Ron, throwing his hands up in the air exasperatedly. "You too? What is it with everyone coming to me for these things?"

"Er," Harry scratched his neck, bewildered. He really wasn't expecting that. "What?"

Ron waved him off. "Forget about it." He paused to exhale so softly that Harry thought he imagined it. "So…Hermione, huh?"

Harry swallowed hard before nodding and looking down at his feet, finding his shoes much more interesting now. He felt awkward. Never in a million years did he think he would be having such a conversation with Ron in a local restroom – he felt like he was in one of those Muggle prank programs. This was much more uncomfortable than the time he had confessed his feeling for Ginny to Ron. This was different; they were talking about Hermione, the same woman who they have befriended, cared for, and fought with for twenty-six years. The same Hermione who Ron has fancied for a long time, dated for years, married to for years, and the same Hermione, who Harry told Ron he loved as a sister nineteen years ago, who he always referred to as his best friend to the people who questioned their friendship, and somehow managed to capture his heart just being herself.

"Why her?" Ron asked slowly. "Why now?"

"I don't know, Ron, I really don't."

"Is that going to be your answer for everything?"

"It's because it's true!" said Harry defensively. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a breath. "I really don't know how to explain it well. I just came to a conclusion yesterday on how I feel about her –"

"That you're in love with her?"

"Yes. She sort of snuck up on me."

"And she doesn't know?"

"Not one bit."

"I figured with the phone call…" Ron trailed off, shrugging.

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think a phone call is an appropriate way to tell her."

"And what about Ginny?" questioned Ron.

Harry hesitated, hoping that his answer would not result in getting another punch; his nose was still throbbing out blood and broken from the last few he received.

"I don't love her anymore," he said honestly. "I mean, I love her but…not like that anymore."

Ron combed a hand through his hair, brushing his locks back from his freckled brows, sighing, "I see. And how do you expect me to feel about all of this? Because I sure as hell don't feel happy about it."

"If it helps, you can hit me again," Harry offered. "Maybe give me a black eye."

Ron's lips twitched slightly. "No, you have a surprisingly hard face."

"Oh." Harry smiled nervously.

Ron sighed. "Look, this is just the more reason why you should tell Ginny about the kiss sooner – be honest with her. There's no point in putting it off any longer. Just be gentle with her when you do tell her. She's tough but she still has feelings, you know."

"I do," Harry said respectively. He was not the least bit annoyed by Ron in this. He was actually wishing Ron would hit him again because he felt like the last two weren't enough. After hearing everything Ron has to say about his mistake, he felt disgusted in himself. He felt like rubbish. And he knew Ginny does not deserve the likes of him – she could find someone better than him.

"And as for Hermione," Ron began; Harry stared at him uncertainly. "Take it from me – being with her for a long time – if you two do end up together somehow, someway – she isn't easy. She's a great woman, she is. Bossy? Yes - Stubborn? Definitely - Drives you batty? You have no idea. But she's a great person in general. I have a lot of respect for everything she does. Don't tell her I said this – she'll get a big ego," he added as an afterthought.

Harry smiled a little. He was happy to see that Ron is able to be himself when it came to Hermione. Everything was truly turning back to normal between those two.

"What I'm saying: don't hurt her," Ron warned. "If you really love her – if this isn't just a passing fancy – you can have my blessing to have her. It better be something solid."

"It is," said Harry too quickly. "I'm sure of it."

"Good," Ron grinned. "I wish you the best of luck, mate, because if things turn out bad, you will be meeting more than two ends of a wand and I can't be there to save your arse. Need I remind you that all the girls in the family are really close? What was that term I heard Rose say once? Oh yeah: girls always stick together."

Realizing this, Harry let out a groan and hung his head low. He hadn't thought about those types of consequences if things didn't turn out well for him and everyone else.

For the first time since he threw the first punch, Ron laughed and Harry couldn't help himself from joining him in another row of hard stomach-tightening laughter as the irony of the situation fell over them. It was at that moment that Harry knew everything was going to be okay between him and Ron. Yes, Ron will take Ginny's side over Harry's any day because blood will always come first no matter how close of a friend he is to Harry. Yes, Ron is angry at Harry for kissing Hermione behind his back and it ended up with Harry being pelted with punches. But Ron still laughed with him in the end of it all. That is how Harry knew they will be okay.

Yet Harry couldn't prevent himself from asking, "Are we still friends?"

Ron smiled. "Yeah. I see no point in fighting with you when you're the one who's going to get blasted."

"Gee, thanks," Harry grinned. He then cleared his throat and gave Ron a serious look. "Ron, I have a favor to ask you. I know it's asking too much after all of this but I really need you to do this for me."

Ron raised a brow. "What is it?"

Harry reached inside the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small vial with a clear liquid inside that looked like crystal water. He handed it to Ron, who in returned looked back at him astonished, as he held the small glass in his palm.

"This is-"

" _Augementum Salutem_ ," Harry finished, nodding.

"What you want me to do with this?" Ron asked.

"Next time you visit with Hermione," Harry answered, "pour this in the IV bag and it will go directly in her father's system. Hopefully in a few minutes, he will wake up."

Realization fell over Ron's face and he shook his head. "Are you mad? You can't use this on a Muggle! Do you know the trouble you'll get? You'll be sent to Azkaban!"

"I got permission from Kingsley," Harry said. "Took a while to convince him but I managed. For the next forty-two hours the potion won't be seen by the Ministry – everything that's done with it won't be reported."

"So why give me this if you won't be seen with it?" Ron raised a quizzical brow.

"Don't worry – the reason why my actions won't be seen is because Kingsley casted an Untraceable Spell on the potion so as long as you're holding it, you're… _'invisible'_ to the eyes of the Ministry," Harry explained. "I'm still under house arrest. I can't leave Godric's Hollow unless it's an urgent emergency, meaning if it's someone in my family in distress. Although Hermione's father is part of my family, I'm only related to him through you and Hermione so he isn't considered as my responsibilities – he is Hermione's."

"And because I'm married to Hermione still, it's considered as my direct responsibility as well," Ron nodded, catching on to Harry's plan. "And that's why the spell won't drop if I'm the one who adds it. Because I'm connected to you through my sister. So technically, you're still doing what you asked from Kingsley."

"Exactly."

"That's right genius of you, Harry," said Ron.

Harry chuckled sheepishly while scratched his head and shrugging. "Not really. Just thinking like an Auror. Hermione's father isn't – as much as I hate to say it – healthy enough to wake up on his own. He needs all the luck he could get in getting better."

Ron looked at his face, his eyes scanning over it curiously, making Harry feel a little self-conscious. He broke the gaze by glancing around the restroom, catching in the reflection of the mirror that Ron was still was still staring at him, and he looked down at the floor to avoid any sight of Ron.

"You really love her," Ron suddenly stated.

Harry raised his head, surprised to see a small smile etched on his best friend's face, one that seemed accepting and relieved, and he nodded as his cheeks burned hard. He still wasn't used to the fact that his feelings for Hermione were real but he was not against it. It just felt so new to him yet it felt casual. He supposed it was because of him loving Hermione so sisterly for so long still being transitioned to the love for a woman.

"I'll make sure to do it next time we visit. Now c'mon," Ron pocketed the vial and then took out his wand, "let's fix up your nose and head back to the others. I think half-time is over."

Harry nodded and let him do that. Because that's what best friends are for. Especially if that best friend is his most dearest brother.

* * *

 **A:N:** Wow! That was an eventful chappie! I think its obvious I have a thing for Japanese culture as well. Don't worry, I'll have other things from other countries as well.

Tell me what you guys think: the Weasley Nine Year Tradition, the Quidditch match, Hermione's mom joining them, Hugo's reaction to the family tradition, the little Auror smitten about Harry, Harry's favor to Ron, and lastly what is going on with Hermione? Why is she acting so distant towards Harry?

I don't know, you'll have to find out next time folks.

 **Augementum Salutem:** Health Growth

 **Please Review!**


	23. Always

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the characters and locations used in it, or the songs mentioned

* * *

 _On a tree in the garden I carved your name,_

 _an word is spelled desire!_

 _Like an ocean deep with the waters even, even_

 _And your love pours down like a waterfall,_

 _and I can't escape the tide_

 _Here's my hand, baby take it or leave it, leave it_

\- Time; Mikky Ekko

* * *

 _"One of the really touching elements to Hermione and Harry's story is that even when he doesn't have faith in himself - she does."_

\- Emma Watson

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: Always**

PUDDLEMERE ADVANCES TO THE FINALS!

BY GINNY WEASLEY

That was the first thing Harry saw when he woke up in the morning. He could see the moving photo of the Puddlemere United team crowded together around their Seeker Albert Robins who has his arm stretched up overhead with the Snitch glittering in his hand and they were all cheering through the confetti. His arm was stretched out on the other side of the bed, under the paper, where he could feel the mattress cold and he knew Ginny had left for work. There was a light weight on the same arm and, although his vision was blurred from sleep, he could see the redness of his daughter almost blocking the view of newspaper. She must have had a nightmare and crawled in bed in the middle of the night.

Harry used his other hand to brush back the hair from her face and watched her sleep. The curtains were drawn, probably by Ginny when she was getting ready, but there was enough sunlight out to help him see her perfectly. Lily was curled up on her side, her favorite blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon, and her stuffed wolf was squashed between their bodies. Her cheek was pressed against the bend of his elbow and he could see a little bit of dried drool on the corner of her mouth but it didn't bother him.

Lily looked a lot like her mother much like Albus and James looked like clones of their father. She held most of the Weasley genes than her brothers did. The red hair was a given. Lily did not like that she was the only one out of the three who got to be different – she felt like an alien. But she had taken in pride when her brothers told her they wished they had the red hair. She did not have many freckles like Ginny does, only two small patches beneath her eyes. She inherited Ginny's nose and eyes. The only thing she has that came from Harry was his smile and his ears. She wore them better than he did (he knew it was the father in him talking when he thought this) and he hoped she never feels regret to have anything of his in her.

He would die if his little girl ever hated having anything of his.

His conversation with Ron has been in his head for weeks and he still hasn't been able to find ways on how to tell Ginny the truth. He is determined to tell his wife the truth of his disloyalty and his change in feelings yet whenever he finds ways to tell her that seem calm and simple enough to at least save their friendship, he always ends up conjuring up the worst case-scenario possible to happen with his choices and he would drop the idea. _Because if things turn out bad, you will be meeting more than two ends of a wand_ , is what Ron told him and that small joke stitched itself in Harry's mind since then and he hasn't been able to remain concrete on his ideas of telling Ginny.

 _Ginny, there's something I need to tell you and I don't think you will like it_ , was Harry's first attempted confession and he quickly dismissed it; of course Ginny wasn't going to like it. No person in the world would like to hear their husband or wife say they kissed their sister-in-law and best friend behind their backs or that they fell in love with the person in the process. Harry had hit himself for even thinking of starting his conversation that way. Ginny would most likely hex him for that.

 _Ginny, I'm going to tell you something I know you won't like and I just want you to know that I had no intentions in doing it and when it did happen, I didn't think it would happen, it just did_ , was Harry's second attempt that he scratched off. He found it too long and he would seem like he was stalling to going straight to the point with Ginny – he knew how impatient she can be when people did that. Direct and forward is Ginny's preferred approach. By the time he tells her, she would probably already figure out what he did and would not give him a chance to finish as she introduces the tip of her wand to him. He would still end up getting hexed.

 _Ginny, before I tell you what I'm going to tell you, I want you to understand that it isn't Hermione's fault_ , was his final attempt and he immediately regretted for coming up with it. He could not explain it but he felt an odd vibe coming off between Ginny and Hermione for the past few weeks since he left the hospital. It wasn't the same sisterly feeling that always came from them. He could not specifically name it but he knew it was not good. He doesn't remember a time he saw them talk to the other without the need of company. They seem to avoid each other at any possible opportunity they have. He supposed it was that _girl thing_ they do where they probably have a disagreement and don't speak to each other stubbornly for a while until they reconnect. It wouldn't be the first time it happens to them. But still, he probably shouldn't start by saying Hermione's name if they were not in good terms at the moment.

Harry sighed soft as he ran a hand through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn't seem to find the correct way in telling Ginny. Then he realized there is no right way in this conflict no matter how much he thought up the details. In the end, Ginny was going to get hurt and it was going to be caused by his doing. She would hate him for everything he has been – a liar, a cheater, and a coward. All of the things she hates. He is someone she hates. He isn't the man who was the boy in the train station she saw – he wasn't the man who was the little boy she had a crush on – he wasn't the man who captured her heart – he isn't the man who she married – and he isn't the man who is the father of her children. The man of her life was honest, loyal, and brave. This isn't who he is.

Which is why Harry decided that he will be the man once again when he tells Ginny the truth. He will be courageous – ready for the consequences that may come his way for his mistake.

 _Ginny, I cheated on you_ , he would tell her. He will tell her everything after that like Ron demanded. He apologize to her, get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness even though he doesn't deserve it, and allow her to hit him the worst of spells there is because he knows he deserves that.

A loud rattle came from the window nearby and Harry's gaze shot to the source; Hedwig ll was squawking and fluttering her wings wildly against her cage, her feathers spewing towards the floor. She looked impatient, desperate – she must have noticed that Harry has been awake for a while. She only ever wants attention from him whenever he is and would demand time for flight. Ginny must have been in a rush for work to let her out for the morning, but then again, Harry knew that it was not her responsibility to free his owl.

Harry held a finger at his lips, glancing down at his sleeping daughter. "I promise I'll take you out soon. Just five more minutes, please. After that, you can have the whole day."

That seemed to calm down Hedwig ll as she tucked in her wings and settled in staring through the small opening of the curtains longingly. Relieved, Harry looked down at Lily, glad to see that she was still deep in slumber, then he grabbed the newspaper and looked at the front page with a frown. The _Daily Prophet_ went by a storm with Ginny's article on the semi-finals and from what she told him, the editor was very impressed by the rating of the sales that he had decided to give Ginny a personal office. Harry was proud of her; she has been working in the journalism business since she gave up her Quidditch career and she has been making a name for herself. She didn't need his last name to be recognized or acknowledged for her talents.

Harry held the paper closely and began to skim over the story, his wife's story:

 _Glee continues to fly about the most mouth-gaping match to ever happen in the history of the Quidditch World Cup. Fans are still in the spirits after witnessing a match that was so gut-wrenching and eye-popping that is surely to be a weekly topic until the Finals. Others were left in disappointment from losing a gamble or to have wasted their Galleons to watch their favorite team lose such an important even that could have put them on the map again._

" _I still think it was a fluke, that's all I'm saying," said one agitated spectator, who had been escorted out of the stadium by Aurors for causing such a ruckus after the match was set._

 _Though many wizards are still in awe at the brutal performance the Chudley Cannons, a renounced Quidditch team that was popular in the mid-1700's, to the Puddlemere United, the winners of the semi-finals and advancing forward to the Finals to go against the Quiberon Quifflepunchers, the Quidditch team from France. During the first half of the match, the Chudley Cannons gave a fierce start towards the Puddlemere United with heavy blows by the Beaters, White and Jenkins, and impressive plays from their Chasers, Gorgovitch, Coal, and Lewis, which helped them be in the lead. They showed no mercy to their rivals of the night as they went as far as injuring fellow Chaser Wadcock, throwing a Bludger to Keeper Wood, and getting a penalty for unnecessary assertiveness towards Seeker Robins. Puddlemere fans went as far as to say, with the utmost respect, that the Chudley Cannons have come close to the level as the Puddlemere United itself, finding them to be a great rival for any future matches to come._

 _However, perspectives were changed during the second half of the match when popularly known Chaser Thomas did an amazing comeback in the name of his team, and he turned the tables {ctd. page 2, column 3}_

Harry did not want to read the rest of the story – he was there anyway. He dropped the newspaper back on the bed as Hedwig ll clicked her beak impatiently at him and rattled her cage once again. On his arm, Lily grunted in her sleep and shifted in her cocoon, sliding her face down from his arm, landing on the pillow beneath it. Harry lets go of the breath he was holding once he was sure that she remained asleep. The glorious snowy owl continued to make noise.

"Alright, alright," grumbled Harry whilst he carefully climbed out of bed without disturbing his daughter and went over to the birdcage, where Hedwig ll was fluttering her wings excitedly as he neared her. "Your mother was much more patient than you."

The owl ignored his comment as she was busy surveying the world outside the windor, swiveling her head towards Harry as an indication to move faster, and clicking her beak continuously. Harry opened the cage and held his arm out for her to climb onto before he moved to the window, unlatching it, then opening it wide enough to let the morning breeze to flow into the room. He could see some of his neighbors leaving their homes for work, kissing their wives farewell, others tending their gardens, and some teenagers walking down the street to go to the bus stop. He was no sure if they were going to school specifically but he would never allow his daughter ride the bus knowing that those delinquent-looking adolescents take it daily.

"Don't bring back any dead rats," he told his eager owl. "Last time you did that, Ginny through a fit when she saw chunks in the room."

The owl clicked her beak and twitched her head in agreement.

"Off you go." Harry held his arm out the window to allow her room to flap her wings and fly out freely into the sky. He watched her for a minute, seeing her white form shrink the farther she went until she was a mere silhouette in the blue above, and he closed his window in satisfaction. He glanced at Lily, seeing her still in sleep, and quietly snuck out of the room, leaving the door opened in a small crack. He was too wide awake now. He might as well get breakfast prepared since he knows Lily will soon follow him.

Teddy was out like a light as Harry could hear him snoring loudly within James' room when he passed it and the door was shut tight. The young wizard was still on a high since the Quidditch match and has been active for anything – cleaning, spending time with Lily, visiting the Burrow, spending time with Hugo, helping Ron and George at the shop, visiting Hermione at her job, grocery shopping with Ginny, and the occasional night flights with Harry. There hasn't been a moment when Teddy would not suggest doing something productive. He reminded Harry of how he used to be when he was a toddler, which brought comfort to him because it was showing him that Teddy was not terribly affected by his confession in being in love with Hermione.

In the kitchen, Harry started preparing the deluxe omelet he always does every Halloween as a family tradition. The only thing different this year was that Ginny had to leave for work before he woke up and Ron, Hermione, or Hugo didn't stay over the night before. He knew they had their responsibilities with their jobs to care about so it was not a surprise to him that when he learned Halloween landed on a Tuesday this year. Yet he was a little upset. It did feel lonely with him being the only on in the kitchen. Usually the kids would be wide awake now, causing a ruckus in the living room, while he, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione fixed a plate for all of them with Hermione sometimes checking on the kids whenever the noises they make were too loud. Now, he is in the kitchen without a sound made aside from the ticking of the father clock in the hallway and he never felt so alone.

Harry flicked on the Wireless to a station that would play the same songs every Halloween to get in the festive mood of the holiday. He pretended the others were there with them and he could hear the saying what they would most likely say. Ron would say to put more cheese in the omelet and less green peppers because he doesn't like them. Ginny would say that to be the reason why he is gaining so much weight and then talk about how Diagon Alley was overcrowded in spirits. Hugo and Lily would get in another competitive discussion then challenge each other in a game of Quidditch. James and Teddy would be helping Harry prepare breakfast while secretly tempering with it to their liking and have the whole omelet to themselves all the while saying they are giving it more flavor. Albus would be telling James that he is going to play with his Xbox before sneaking off and James would chase after him, shaking his fist at him like the angry old man at the end of their block. Then there is Hermione and Rose; in Harry's mind, he would see them beating the egg while Rose would tell Hermione how much she loved the book she recommended and wanted to ask her questions about it.

Then Harry stopped his fantasy when he heard himself chuckling under his breath and he was met with the silence again. It started to make him feel too sad to realize he needed to make up a scene in his head to feel content. He then switched the Wireless to connect onto a Muggle rock station and kept the volume low as a slow, mellow song played. He found him nodding his head to the steady drum beat and humming to the guitar as he sprinkled a few ham pieces into the mix then flipped the omelet. He did not know the song (he expected to hear a screaming person or a more hardcore sound) but he felt like he was melting away in the easy rhythm and the cool singing of the vocalist.

" _Reducio!_ " he murmured, using his wand to lower the flames before he went to the icebox and pulled out a fresh carton of grape juice he knows is Teddy and Lily's favorite. It was until after he closed the icebox that he nearly dropped the carton when he was startled at the sight that appeared in front of him. "Merlin!" he gasped, clutching on the edges of the icebox for support and holding the carton to his fast-pacing heart. "Blimey, Hermione! Warn me next time!"

It was Hermione standing by the doorway of the kitchen, dressed properly for a day of work, while holding onto a sleeping Hugo who was limp in her arms, still wearing his pajamas and his model dragon snuggled in his bed-ragged hair. Harry noticed that Hugo's pajama trousers were a bit small on him now, seeing that the bottom was a few inches above his ankles than they should be.

"Sorry about that, I didn't mean to give you a fright," said Hermione although she was smirking. "I thought you heard me come in."

"Obviously I didn't," murmured Harry. "So much for _'constant vigilance'_."

"You really should strengthen the security wards of this place," Hermione stated. "It's not really reliable if you ask me. Any enemies of yours could easily step inside while you lot are sleeping."

Harry snorted, "It's only strong enough to keep A-rank criminals and below out. X-rank criminals are smart enough to not come in here personally."

"Oh?" Hermione arched an amused brow. "So does that make me an X-rank witch if I was able to get in so easily?"

"You're not a criminal – you're a civilian – you're family," Harry said. "If you were any threat to me or to my family, it would have been triggered."

Hermione chuckled as she stepped deeper into the kitchen and Harry placed the juice carton on the counter. Hugo was heard mumbling into Hermione's shoulder while shifting a little in her grasp and then he stilled into a rest of snores as his model dragon cozied deeper into his tangled locks. Hermione leaned against the counter as she rubbed her son's back, attempting to keep him in the calm state, and kissed his head so lovingly that Harry couldn't help smiling at the care she put in that kiss.

"So what brings you here to my humble abode so early in the morning?" he said. "Not that I have any problem with you here, but don't you work? And shouldn't Hugo be sleeping in his bed? That's the whole point of having a free day from school."

Unlike most schools in Britain where they would decorate the building for the holiday and have students come dressed in appropriate costumes for the spirit of the day, St. Paul's Cathedral School would cancel lessons on Halloween and the day after, much to the student's and some of the teacher's delight. It gives teenagers a chance to go to their ravenous parties and to sleep in the next day from their hangovers or for the kids to raid as many houses they want for candy and sleep in illness afterwards.

"Yes, I'm on my way there now," answered Hermione. "I actually came here to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"I was hoping if…you could watch over Hugo today," Hermione said sheepishly. "I know it's the last minute and you must have a lot of things to do but I really have no one else to take care of him. Mum is at the dentistry – Molly is going to be too busy preparing the feast for tonight – Ron and George are struggling with sales today because you know how mischievous kids can be with pranks on Halloween – also Arthur is –"

"Hermione, I don't mind, you know that," interrupted Harry, seeing that she was looking desperate while wondering how she is able to say so much in one breath and not seem like she is going to faint. "This is practically his second home, too. There are still some extra clothes of his in the guest room. His extra toothbrush is where it always is, along with his favorite toothpaste and mouthwash. I don't think there's any floss, though. I could maybe do a quick run to the market for one since I know how strict you are with his teeth. He could borrow my shampoo if he wants to take a bath when he wakes up –"

Hermione looked relieved. "Oh Harry! Thank you so much! You won't believe how grateful I am for this!"

"It's no problem," Harry shrugged. "You know I don't mind having the little tyke around."

"Thank you, again. I've been in such a rush these past few weeks," Hermione said. "Kingsley has been having my department team in some last-minute meetings about the Rowle case. Reports of sightings of newborn creatures are going around like mad, then again it is mating season. S.P.E.W has been chaotic with those creatures that my presence has been needed more than ever and don't even get me started with the ones they have now – they're incorrigible." Her eyes lit up. "Oh! And we found Agnes' mother…she was found struggling to survive in Norway. Turns out, the blighter who had Agnes had been hunting there and was planning to mount Agnes on his wall when he stole her – he was just waiting for her to hatch to do it."

Harry scowled. "That's sick."

"I know," Hermione frowned. "We managed to nurse her back to health – it's a miracle she managed to hold on for so long – she was severely wounded and needed seven bottles of Blood-Replenishing Potions per hour and ten vials of healing potions for her wounds. Poor thing. We immediately reported the crime and that rubbish of a man is being put to trial now as we speak."

"How long you think they'll put him?" Harry said. "I'm going for thirty-five years."

"Hardly," said Hermione. "The bloke broke so many laws at once; he did illegal hunting in the forest of Norway, which Kingsley now has to pay the price for and has to try to mend the alliance we have with their Minister because one of our own went past the border and infiltrated their lands – that is a maximum of ten years right there. There's also harming a creature and stealing an unborn infant from said creature in said land – that's no doubt another ten years. Then there's lying to a corporation allied with a Ministry official and no cooperation under authority – that's fifteen years…So you would have been right about it being thirty-five years but I heard he resisted arrest and even dared to attack an Auror –"

"Ooh," Harry grimaced, "that's a mandatory of sixty-seven years he's facing."

"Precisely."

"Hope he doesn't have family," Harry said. "Visiting hours in Azkaban is limited – they'd have to book two years prior to see him for a day."

"I've done research on him and his background isn't the cleanest," Hermione retorted. "I don't think his relationship with his family is anyway near close."

Harry raised a brow. "You did research on him?"

"He almost killed a mother to mount her baby on the wall, Harry," Hermione pointed out flatly, raising one hand to gently stroke Hugo's hair when she felt him twitch lightly. "I wanted to make sure he stayed behind bars."

Harry smirked. "I understand. But still, you should worry about your case – it's in two days. Are you prepared for it? Opening arguments are most important in these things –"

"Yes, Harry, I know," said Hermione, smiling slightly. "I've been working in this for ages now. I think I know how a court case works by now."

"Of course, of course, I'm just suggesting an advice, but obviously _the_ Hermione Granger does not need such a thing," Harry mumbled sarcastically, purposely loud enough for her to hear. He knew she cannot swipe him on the arm because she is still holding Hugo.

"Um…Harry? Whatever is it you have on the stove is now on fire," Hermione smirked playfully while pointing a finger behind him and he quickly turned around; indeed, the omelet he had been preparing is now engulfed in flames and puffing out black smoke.

"Aw, bloody hell!" Harry rapidly took out his wand and shot a rain of water over the burning skillet, reducing the possibilities of burning the kitchen into ashes. "So much for keeping up with tradition," he mumbled once all traces of fire was gone and he dried up the area with a flick of his wand before he approached the sizzling skillet; he could hear Hermione mutter an incantation behind him and the cloud of smoke was cleared from the air. He could see the once delicious omelet now shriveled up into a burnt crush with overcooked toppings and horribly smelling cheese.

"That's what happens when you act all sarcastic on me, Mr. Potter," said Hermione sweetly, the tone of laughter etched in her words.

"Shut up, Hermione." Harry turned to her with an earnest smile and gestured a hand at the open carton of fresh eggs on the counter. "Wanna help out?"

Hermione hesitated. "I wish I could, Harry, truly…But I need to get to S.P.E.W early to meet up with Lucia. We're going to Hogwarts to get Agnes from Hagrid. What a wonderful trip I find it to be – I bet Hagrid and Buckbeak have gotten attached to the little thing after my last visit. Buckbeak, I could understand since Agnes is his baby."

"I'm sorry – what?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention," Hermione laughed. "When we ran a DNA testing on the mother to make sure she is related to Agnes, we found positive results that Buckbeak's DNA is also there."

"How'd you manage that?" Harry asked.

"What other Hippogriff do we know who has a stomach full of dead ferrets? That's all he ever eats. But I still have samples from the one time Hagrid brought Buckbeak in for a check-up. You remember the time he was rather peaky."

"I remember," Harry sighed. "So you really can't stay? Do you really have to go so early?"

"It's a perfect time," Hermione explained. "The students will be eating breakfast and Hagrid will be taking the Hippogriffs out for their morning flights. I also have to go back to the Ministry to have a meeting with some of the witnesses of the Rowle case and register Hagrid as the official owner of Agnes and her family. I don't really have the time."

"Oh okay, I understand," Harry said. He was really disappointed; he felt like he hasn't seen Hermione for years with her attending her responsibilities at work and home and with him still being under Kingsley's order to remain in Godric's Hollow until he was mentally stable. He was never left alone with Teddy being around and Lily spending time with him after school or Ginny coming to his aid during her day-offs but, as much as he loves them, he would enjoy seeing a new face of an old friend. Ron would visit from time to time (he would remind Harry about their agreement about Ginny), eventually George would come to update him in everyone's daily lives, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's presence is frequent that he needed to come up with a work-out schedule to maintain in shape from the large meals they would bring in courtesy of Molly Weasley.

But he hardly ever saw Hermione. He knew he wasn't going to because of the Rowle case coming close and she would most likely spend the remaining time to be fully prepared for all angles that could come her way. Yet he wished she would spare some of her time to let him see her for a second. Ron would tell him that she does ask of him and would have him send a message from her ("She says that she hopes you have gotten better because she misses seeing you at the Ministry and so you can come over at our place for supper again – she hates knowing you're caged up here," said Ron, "She always wants you to know that she hopes you understands why she hasn't been around but to remind you that she wishes to be here. Please give me an answer – she's driving me nutters!") but it wasn't the same. He needed to see her – hear her – feel her. As comforting it was of her to let him know she thought of him, he felt it wasn't enough – he needed to absorb her presence to feel content.

Perhaps Hermione detected his disappointment oozing out of him because she surprised him when she asked, "It depends…were you attempting to make your famous Halloween special?"

Harry grinned. "With green pepper and shredded mozzarella cheese."

"Oh, that sounds divine," Hermione moaned appreciatively. She peered at her son. "Let me put Hugo to bed and I'll take you up on your offer."

"Are you sure you don't need to meet up with Lucia?"

Hermione glanced at her wristwatch. "Hmm, it's only five past six and Lucia won't be clocking in the office until six-forty – I think I do have some time to spare for a quick spot of breakfast."

"Fantastic," said Harry, trying to keep the giddiness inside him from wavering in his voice. "Do you want some coffee soda?"

Hermione's eyes were alight. "You have those?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted, sheepishly scratching his head, "I sort of picked up on it."

The light in her eyes suddenly went out as soon as it came and an abyss of worrisome was pooled within her brown eyes, making Harry confused. He doesn't understand what it was that he said that made her feel such a way. He didn't offend her in any way. Perhaps she doesn't like that he is drinking her favorite beverage?

"I'll be back," said Hermione softly before she exited the kitchen.

Harry stood there in a bewildered state, staring at the spot she was just standing in a few seconds ago, as he listened to her feet climb up the stairs. The look on her face stayed in his mind – he was left feeling like he was Confunded and caught in an enchanted trance of Amortenia simultaneously. He tried to distract himself by cleansing the burnt skillet, cracking open a few eggs into a measuring cup, added milk, and then whisking the mix with too much vigor that some dropped on the counter. But he did not pay attention to the mess; he was more focused on Hermione's sudden change in behavior. He did keep in mind that he was pleased to know she was not acting cautiously distant like she has been for the past few weeks and she seems to be slowly going back to normal with him again but he wondered if it was because Ginny wasn't home.

Suddenly, two minutes later, bags of vegetables, bacon bits, and the batch of butter landed on either side of him on the counter then the sound of running water is heard coming from the sink. He didn't have to look up to know it was Hermione who returned.

"Starting without me?" she asked while shutting off the faucet and drying her hands with a paper towel. "Afraid I'll muck up your special omelet that bad?"

Although he was more than puzzled at her sudden cheerful demeanor, he couldn't stop his lips from twitching in a humorous smile and saying, "Thought it be best to get a head start. You know how nutters everyone goes for my special omelet – this place goes into a madhouse once the smell hits the rooms."

"Please let them sleep in," Hermione chuckled as she took out the cutting board, along with a knife, and began to chop up the vegetables on it, "Hugo has been going bonkers over Halloween this year – saying he can't wait to get more candy than Lily. I swear those two find a reason to compete for everything. I hope they will grow out of it before they go to Hogwarts."

"I doubt it," Harry grinned. "Watch them compete about going into the same house first – get in the Quidditch team first – eat their meals first – get to class first – participate more in class than the other – finish their assignments first –"

"Hmm, I don't mind the last three."

"Like lamb to the slaughter – I just convinced you into something! I should get an Order of Merlin for that!"

Hermione gave him a playful nudge to the shoulder with her own, laughing together with him as she continued to dice up the vegetables. Harry then added a spoonful of butter on the heated skillet, waited a minute for it to melt, and carefully added the egg batter in the skillet, the aroma of cooked eggs now filling the kitchen.

"Is this enough?" she asked, pointing at the pile of mixed chopped vegetables.

"Yeah," Harry said, "but add a little more of bacon bits. Gives it that pork taste Lily loves."

"Have you decided where you're taking Lily for Trick-or-Treating this year?" asked Hermione as she sprinkled the vegetables pieces and extra bacon bits over the omelet, making a heavenly sizzling sound.

"Hm, I was thinking of maybe going to Liverpool or perhaps Cumbria then back here," Harry responded distractedly; he doesn't like where this conversation was heading to and he was hoping he could somehow divert it to another direction.

"Why in those places?"

"It's simple and safe. Also, I know a couple of areas there that are for wizards – I found it in some old missions of mine. It's a safe local place. Plenty of children in Lily's age, lots of activities to do, and loads of houses to raid candy from. Supposedly they're designed to be actually haunted houses so it could make it more adventurous for the little buggers to get their candy. In Cumbria, there's some entertainment for the kids and adults. So while Lily goes off making new chums in the toddler's side, I could help myself a nice round of Firewhiskey and relax while listening to some local wrock band play."

"That sounds brilliant, do you mind if we tagged along? Ron and I were just planning to take him to a couple of blocks close to our street and heading to the Burrow afterwards but your idea sounds more to his liking."

Harry shook his head. "I don't mind. We're going to the Burrow later too anyway so might as well go together."

"I wonder what Molly has planned for the feast," Hermione pondered. "Do you think she might have gotten help from George for the decorations? That would certainly be an event. Or maybe she used the same decorations she always uses…but then again, she did went out to buy some stuff at Diagon Alley, so she probably did get some new ones…It's possible she might went to that new store in the south street – the one where it changes for every holiday. I checked it out one time during lunch and the things they have in there are just spectacular!...I honestly think that place is going to give Ron for his money this year –"

As she continued to babble on about decorations and the feast, Harry watched her adoringly. For years, he has been used to Hermione being actively talkative about the things that ignite her excitement, which is technically about the newest edition of a book or an end of term exam, but seeing her now, actually listening to her ramble on continuously was really amusing to him. Before he had been annoyed by it, mostly because he was always on edge with any life-threatening thing that was attracted to him like a magnet, but being with her now in the kitchen holding a domestic atmosphere and mitigation of past responsibilities, he can see how much he has grown fond to hear her insights in anything that pops in her head. Passionate, desirous, and disquisitive – she was like kid experiencing her first Christmas.

"– me, Harry? Harry? Harry!"

Harry woke up from his inner admiration by Hermione shaking him fervently on the shoulder; she was staring at him apprehensively and a bit miffed.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked earnestly.

Hermione sighed dramatically. "I said: how are you holding up? With today?"

It take Harry a minute to get what Hermione was implying before he finally comprehended on her question and he looked down at the skillet with a deep frown as he flipped the omelet; today was the day when his family was murdered by Lord Voldemort – today was the anniversary of their deaths. Many people see this as the day he was marked with the infamous scar of his and became wildly known as The-Boy-Who-Lived, a day which hope and peace was brought for a few years, but to him this was a tragic history.

Every year, he would feel anger, the hurt, the rage, and the pain towards those who dare celebrate this date as a ceremony for his defeating Voldemort the first time instead of an honorary time that should be required to be spent in silence in respect for their memory.

Perhaps that is why he has been feeling rather lonely today. Maybe it wasn't because his family wasn't here to have the traditional breakfast before heading out to take the children to Trick-or-Treat that has him feel low. He realized he has been using it as an excuse to avoid remembering about the most horrific day of his life and he could now see how cowardly it was of him to not try to acknowledge the time of his parent's death, of the sacrifice they made to let him live this far in life. He looked at Hermione, who was patiently watching him, and he felt a shot of relief for her for reminding him the day that gave him everything for losing everything. If it weren't for this day, he wouldn't have it all now; he wouldn't have the Weasley family or the bonds he has formed with the people who came in his life and whisked away with an impact that helped him grow into a man. He wouldn't have the love he was deprived off from the Dursleys. He wouldn't have the friendships. He wouldn't have Ron as a brother. And he wouldn't have her, Hermione, here with him now and as the most crucial piece of his heart. He lost two great people but in return they gave him a chance to have everything.

"Will you come with me?" he said strenuously. "After we take the kids…"

Hermione seemed to infer what he was asking her and he did not like the diffident look she gave him.

"Will you come with me?" he repeated.

Hermione bit her lip. "Harry, you know I want to be there with you…to visit your parents. But, don't you think it's a better idea if you take Ginny with you? She is your wife."

"She is…but I want _you_ there," Harry said firmly, not showing any signs of doubt. It is true what Hermione said; Ginny is his wife and it is most expectant of her to be the one to accompany him to his parent's grave but he needed Hermione to understand that is cannot be Ginny with him. This happens every year when this date comes – he asks Hermione to come and she would remind him of Ginny – but in the end, they both know she will be the one with him in the end of the night no matter how much she argues with him. To him, it is because he knows it will not be the same with Ginny and he needs Hermione to see what goes through his mind when he thinks this; she, Hermione Granger, was the very first person to be by his side during his return to Godric's Hollow.

This woman next to him was the only one who saw the unfixable side of him that he kept masked over with the image of an unbreakable leader and courageous man walking to his death without regrets. She did not see Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Lived or Harry Potter: her best friend, she saw Harry Potter: a broken orphan with a battered heart that still managed to feel the love for parents he never got the chance to cherish or have memories to remember them by, and held a cruel rage towards the world who took them away for a prophecy he did not ask to be part of, and longing to be embrace in their arms for real for once. Hermione was there as the first to see the boiling tears carelessly dripping down his face, the same tears he held in year and years for that one specific moment, for him to let it go in front of their names because those were all he had to feel them to be there in front of him at that moment, and she did the biggest, most wonderful thing he believed that anyone could have done for him – she had taken his hand and conjured up a wreath for him to lay at his parent's resting place.

Hermione read his inner desire so easily that he thought he had spoken it out loud but he knew he did not need to say anything for her to know what goes through his head. Which is why she did not speak. She didn't say any of those hopeless words _they're still here with you_ or _everything is going to be okay_ because she knew he would not have believed her. Instead she had held his hand because that was all he needed to be reassured that he was not alone, that he would never be alone as long as she was alive. Her small gesture was enough for him to hear what it is that she truly wanted to say that night – _I'm here_. And he doesn't think he could love her any more for that.

"Please come," Harry was now whispering; the pungent and comforted emotions from that one night now clashing uncontrollably within him, "with me."

The resistance in Hermione had sputtered and died. He wondered what kind of face he was making to have her break so easily. She took his hand, the tightness in her grasp making them shake a little, letting it swing slightly in the space between them but her eyes, full of those same poignant emotions from that night, never left his. If he knew any better, he was certain that one of them had stepped closer to the other because the distance between them had reduced, leaving their hands to brush lightly against their sides as they continued to hardly swing.

"I will," she replied, also whispering like him.

"Thank you."

Hermione did not say anything. She did, however, loosen her hold on his hand a little bit but Harry did not – he was not ready to let go of her hand just yet or ever. She noticed this and stared at him more wondrously, silently trying to read what could be going through his mind but he could see that she is having difficulty penetrating his head and he was fine with it. The corner of his mouth twitched a little because he knew what she was trying to do; _Legilimency_. Like Harry, Hermione, along with Ron, had learned the spell for years until they were able to perfect it. He and Ron used it during interrogations against their suspects (back when Ron was an Auror) until it was banned by a witch for violations of privacy, and Hermione used to use it as well to see the thoughts of the lawyers who were defending their clients against her and to use their tactics against them but then she heard about the ban and had to reluctantly stop using it.

But, unbeknownst to Ron or Hermione, that Harry had managed to succeed in his Occulumency a lot quicker than they have because he has been practicing it since Snape taught him. It entertained him to see Ron or Hermione try to delve in his mind and later fail to do so with the psychological wall he would put up but it was frustrating to him when they use Occulumency on him. In the end, neither use it as much anymore; they mostly do it on their children when they're lying to get out of trouble and on each other for laughs or if they feel like there is something wrong with the other, like how Hermione is trying to do with him.

Hermione caught what he was doing and lets out an aggravated huff as she snatched her hand out of his and went back to chopping the vegetables again. Harry laughed heartily at her, feeling the weight of his parent's deaths alleviate a little by the little pout on her lips and the frown formed between her glaring brows.

"You're such an enigma sometimes," muttered Hermione.

"And you're a rather nosy bint," retorted Harry. "Trying to sneak a peek of my thoughts like that. What were you trying to find?"

"It was nothing of importance." Hermione kept her gaze on the knife and vegetables. "I just haven't used _Legilimency_ in a while…And you do have interesting thoughts in that stubborn head of yours."

"' _Nothing of importance_ ' right," Harry rolled his eyes. "You're a horrible liar, 'Mione."

"Like you're any better."

"C'mon, tell me what you were trying to find."

"It was nothing, Harry, let it go."

"Are you saying nothing goes in my mind? I find that insulting."

"I did not say that – you did."

"But you're not denying that nothing happens in my head."

"Because you were using Occulumency."

"Hermione!" Harry groaned in exasperation, making the brunette to laugh at his expense. "Do you have a comeback for everything?"

"More or less," Hermione smirked.

Harry nudged her shoulder. "Tell me."

"No."

Harry nudged her again, only harder.

"Harry, I'm not telling."

Another nudge came to her shoulder, only this one made her lose her balance a little and nearly tumble.

"Stop it, Harry! I'm with a knife!"

"So tell me."

Hermione heaved a sigh and gave him an annoyed look. "If I tell you, will you stop it? You're acting very childish and it makes me wonder if you're still tired. You usually act like a toddler when you're sleep-deprived."

"I can guarantee you that I'm not," said Harry. He flipped the omelet again once he was sure one side was well-cooked. "So…tell me."

Hermione delayed, keeping silent as she was now dicing up another set of vegetables. Harry's special omelet required five stacked in one pile with all of them held together with a fine layer of cheese. She would have been against it if she did not know about the many healthy ingredients mixed in it and if she hadn't tasted it the first time but Harry knew that either way her family would have persuaded her to allow it in the end.

"If you must know," started Hermione, biting her lip, "I was trying to see if maybe Ron told you anything lately."

Harry instantly caught on to her somewhat vague answer. "Such as?"

"Family-wise."

Harry nodded. "He told me about the divorce."

"And what are your thoughts on the subject?" Hermione asked. She had paused on cutting to look at him, her eyes full of a million questions.

"Honestly," sighed Harry, "I'm shocked. I wasn't expecting you two to come to this decision. I've seen you row to the very worst but you somehow manage to get past it. I didn't think there would be an end for you guys."

"It was an obvious inevitability in retrospect," said Hermione. "There were too many problems in communication and far too many responsibilities on both ends. We were living separate lives together - him with the shop and me at the Ministry - and when we do come together, we seem to clash against each other. We were hurting each other without wanting to and in the process, we were hurting our kids. I don't think either of us was happy for a long time and it took us now to realize that."

"You seem happy now," Harry pointed out.

"I guess with everything out in the open, we were finally able to stop pretending that our marriage could work as it used to and be able to tell each other things without worrying affecting the other," said Hermione. "It's actually a lot easier telling things to each other as best friends than husband and wife – it feels more natural. There's no pressure between us anymore."

"And you're feeling okay about that?" Harry asked slowly, cautiously. "About why Ron wanted the divorce?"

"About Luna? I won't lie, I am a bit surprised to hear him fancying her – I certainly wasn't expecting that. I was waiting for him to say something between the lines of _'having no time together'_ or _'our jobs are in the way of our marriage'_ when he confessed he wasn't happy," Hermione answered truthfully. "But in overall, I'm not mad at him. He was the one who was fairly honest to me about it – a lot more than I ever been to him. I don't love him anymore like a husband like he doesn't to me as a wife…I'm just glad I can still have him as a best friend…I honestly don't think I can see my life without Ron in it."

"I don't think anyone can."

"That's true!" Hermione laughed.

"And how did Hugo take it when you told him?" Harry inquired.

Hermione frowned. "We didn't tell him yet," she admitted. "Ron and I agreed to tell the kids when they're together so…at the end of Rose's first year…maybe a month or two after she returns, we'll tell them. Hopefully, things will turn out for the best when we explain."

Harry summoned a plate from one of the cabinets to place the omelet in it and then started to mix together another batch as Hermione resumed cutting up the remains of the vegetables for him.

"I'll be honest with you, Harry," said Hermione softly, "I'm afraid of their reactions."

"I'd be ashamed if you weren't," Harry retorted.

"Especially Rose's," continued Hermione. "You know she's given me a chance to be her mother again this Christmas? Yeah, we had a talk when I gave Agnes to Hagrid for safekeeping and she decided to forgive me if I'm there for her when she sings solo this year at the church," she added when Harry gave her a skeptical look.

Harry was stunned speechless; Hermione and Rose finally had their needed talk after years of remorse and resentment? He then felt relieved and scared for Hermione. He was full of pride for her to be able to be part of her long-missed daughter's life again, to be able to make memories and fulfill promises like the mother he expected and believed her to be, but yet, with the decision of the divorce now made while the young Weasley girl is away for school was actually a big risk. How would Rose take it? Would she hate Hermione? Would she still consider Hermione a mother for the Christmas favor after she is told of the divorce? Those were two huge possibilities that could happen and Harry knows he cannot prevent them from happening, knows he cannot control Rose's emotions when she is told. All he knows he could do is hope that the months after Christmas would be enough for Hermione to prove to Rose how important she really is to her mother.

"If…If Rose reacts badly with this…Harry, I don't know what I will do," Hermione said, deflated. "Even if we explain it right – even if Ron talks to her – I know she will choose to want to live with him. And then there's Hugo…he's a very sensitive lad and he looks up to his sister…He will most likely follow her no matter how much he doesn't want to leave me and I don't want them separated…I would let Ron have full custody over them if it means keeping them together, but…I don't want them to think I don't want them anymore and end up hating me…I don't –"

"They won't hate you," Harry responded strongly. "Don't think like that, Hermione."

"I have to consider every possibility in this decision –"

"No, you're only considering the negative." Harry added the mixed batter on the hot skillet and she sprinkled the freshly cut up vegetable pieces. "Hermione, what is it I've been telling you since you told me your problems at home?"

Hermione sighed. "You said you don't blame me and don't think I'm a horrible mother…That's I'm a great witch and I'll be okay."

"Exactly," said Harry, "and I meant it – every word."

"Harry, I know you meant it but –"

"Hermione, I meant it." Harry held her by the shoulder and looked her directly into her eyes, capturing the shade of dark chocolate brown brighten up into light caramel as sunlight started to beam into the kitchen. "If I meant it then it's because it's true and if it's true then good things will come."

He did not want to sound too confident to the point of looking arrogant but he could not find any other way of giving her the reassurance he wants her to feel. He needed her to see the good that could come with the decision, that with her and Ron being happy apart will help them work well raising their children together, that with them being happy separated will be noticed by their children and they will be happy too because they could be around their parents without a worry of another conflict occurring. It sounds absurd for something to be that simple, especially in Hermione's position, but he does not want her to lack hope for a better future for her family, not when it is something she fought so hard to keep safe from criminals, and definitely not when she worked hours of a late night to make sure they are.

"Harry," whispered Hermione, her face betraying the shock she was feeling towards his words and the fact she was also allured by his confidence in the better future for her. That was good, Harry thought, because it shows that he was getting through her, that she was beginning to picture what it is that he sees through the hardships that came from being the mother of Rose and Hugo Weasley, and that she was regaining the confidence she held through the years of fighting with Ron, the separation with Rose, and the close call of repeating it with Hugo, because she believed in that future he sees for her.

Tentatively, Harry slid his hands up to cup the slender arcs of her neck with his palms, his fingers tangled with the curled strands of hair on the nape of her neck, and his thumbs softly grazing along the smooth structure of her graceful jaw. She was staring up at him with those ardent eyes, flickering over his face with a bewitchingly gaze that nearly made him groan in torture. It was no doubt; Hermione Granger was stunningly pulchritudinous. Beautiful was too colorless of a word to describe her. She wasn't erotically sensual like those famous models or eye-catching like a lovely maiden walking down the street on calm Sunday afternoon – she was dressed in simply plain work clothes with her hair as an attractive bush and her face natural from the noticeable tiny bags under her eyes to the chapped cease of her lips. And he has never seen someone so splendid.

"Trust me like I trust you," he breathed out, his tone unsteady in sound but firm in meaning. "All that I told you from the beginning is true. Everything will be okay – I promise."

Hermione inhaled sharply and she brought up her hands to gently grasp onto his arms but she didn't do anything to remove them from her neck and face. She was still looking into his eyes like he is to her and he wondered if it was the close proximity between them that has her in such a reduced state. It certainly has him in it. He could taste the mint toothpaste of her breath without actually touching her lips and he could feel the drumming beats of her pulse running pats against his palms, and he knows she could feel his under her fingertips.

"I trust you," said Hermione in one of the most gentlest voices Harry has ever heard her speak in.

"Good."

Slowly, he pulled his hands away from her face and out of her hands but his gaze on her never moved. He was too enticed by her fervid eyes and unblemished face. He could not explain how he never noticed all of this about her or how she really makes him feel by just being near him. He wants to revel in it eternally. Unfortunately, Hermione chose to break away from him and pay attention to the unimportant contents in the skillet.

"Lucky us – it didn't burn," she murmured as she flipped the omelet like she had seen Harry do.

"Add the garlic salt," Harry said, handing her the small bottle of the seasoning as he tried to calm his heart down to a normal rate. "Give it five more minutes to be absorbed and flip the omelet again to add it on the other side."

Hermione was silent as she added the garlic on one side of the omelet and Harry figured she must be unwinding from the compelling moment. She even used the rubber band on her fist to tie back her hair, probably to cool herself down with the cold air of the house, but what she does not know was that she had gave Harry an exposed view of the nape of her neck, and he instantly found himself entranced of an enticing view of the back of Hermione's neck, the hairline arousing him to give into the temptation of smothering every inch of her skin with lingering kisses. There was also a chain clasped around her neck – his birthday gift that she never seems to stop wearing. He knew that Hermione has no idea what she was doing to him, knew that she hadn't meant to do it on purpose, but he was finding it easy to blame it on her because it was all by her – he couldn't handle it.

"H-Harry?" Hermione squeaked embarrassingly and self-consciously; Harry had moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her delicately like she was made out of porcelain.

No thoughts about Ginny or Ron or about anyone came to his mind as Harry did what he has been unintentionally provoked to do; he held the tied hair to the side, giving him a clearer sight of her neck, and he lowered his head to the curve where he let mouth lips brush a kiss that was as tender as a hushed whisper. He could feel her tense under his lips then gradually melt away and his heart gave a lurch when he heard her release a quiet sigh. He pulled back from the kiss and rests his chin on her shoulder, pressing his cheek affectionately against hers. He was surprised that throughout the whole exchange, she did not pull away from him.

Neither said a word as they continued to cook breakfast with Harry giving her instructions on how to make his edible omelet and her wordlessly obeying without hesitation. All the while, they did not move from their position with her buried in the warmth of his arms and him enjoying this physical intimacy with her. It was pleasantly wonderful for Harry to be holding her in such a way that was foreign yet naturally delightful; he and Hermione have hugged but they were out of comfort and through running of emotions. This hug was different on his part. He has forgotten about every from Ginny to his parent's anniversary and he could see this happening daily if Hermione was the woman in his life instead, with her learning to cook happily like she used to be when she is learning a new spell in class and him instructing her through the process like he did when he was leading the D.A. He could only imagine that life with her but now he did not have to wonder how it would feel to be in this position with her.

It wasn't until he heard the familiar creak of the stairs that he had to reluctantly release her and busied himself in mixing up another batch. Hermione was too engrossed in flipping the omelet, slipping a few times until she managed to do so, her face now a vivid scarlet red shade, and she did not speak. It made Harry panic a little; had he gone too far? Although, she did not look the least bit bothered by his actions, which made the fear in him to ease down, yet he was feeling rattled to see the conflicted look in her eyes.

"M'ning," said Teddy groggily from behind and Harry briefly glanced over his shoulder to send him a nod before returning to making another omelet. From the corner of his eye, he can see Hermione become a little rigid and glancing at him frequently with sharp looks. He kept his gaze down at the sizzling omelet to avoid the foreign awkwardness that has fallen upon them, not knowing what to do since he never experienced such odd silent with her before.

Hermione turned around without another glance at him. "Good morning, Teddy. I see you brought the kids as well."

"M-Mum-Ne, you're still here," said Teddy, unable to stifle yawn, as he scratched his hair, "I thought Hugo stayed over and I d-didn't know."

Harry looked over again and saw Lily and Hugo, barely awake, pale in drowsiness, and clad in their pajamas. Lily was clutching her stuffed wolf and Hugo was hugging a blanket tightly around his body (Harry assumed is what Hermione tucked him in earlier) and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, both of them yawning cutely. They also had their model dragons slumped on their shoulders.

"What are you kids doing awake so early?" asked Hermione.

"W-w-we smelled breakfast," yawned Lily as she went over to Harry and lazily held her arms up to him; Harry picked her up in his arms and let her lay her delicate head on his shoulder. "Daddy is making his special omelet, is he?"

Harry grinned at Hermione. "Told you the smell will hit the rooms."

"Yes, but thank Merlin this place isn't a madhouse," said Hermione sardonically. She went over to the kids and gathered her lethargic son in her arms. He did not hesitate to sluggishly wrap his arms around her shoulder and lay his head against the crook of her neck. "Let's get you to the sofa before you fall, shall we?"

"Lily jumped me," whined Hugo in a slothful slur. "I was dreaming I was a knight and was training a dragon to fly a-and," he trailed off in another yawn.

"I'm sure you did, sweetie," whispered Hermione as she gently rubbed his back and lightly rocked to the sides.

Harry stared at the dazzling scene of a mother caring for her child and, for a second, he saw it all change drastically into a different life; he could see Hermione holding, not Hugo, but a young girl who can be easily resembled as her mother in every physical way. She would have the long, bushy brown hair, which would be in disarray from the tossing and turning in her sleep, and the petite nose while she held his green eyes and smile. And Hermione would be rocking her into slumber again whilst rubbing her back like she is doing to Hugo now then she would glance at him and give him that graceful smile he has grown to love. She would call him _'honey'_ or _'darling'_ and give him a lovely kiss for no reason or perhaps for her own reasons, and he would be happy to accept it if it meant to bring out that smile of hers once more.

It was right there, right at this moment, inside the kitchen with a Muggle song playing statically from the Wireless and the sizzling of the skillet in the background, Harry realized that his feelings for Hermione were not a passing fancy as Ron suspected it to be – he really loves her. Because he thought about what he felt when Ron told him about their divorce and how he is acting towards Hermione right now. He was not happy that his best friends are getting separated, just the latter. He didn't think immediately that he could drop Ginny and chase after Hermione now that he has an opportunity or tried to come up ways to make her feel romantically towards him – all he cared about was Hermione being hurt. Like now; she was in distressed about Rose like he is about his parent's deaths but he is putting his inner struggles aside to give her comfort and hope. The position they were in was also an excellent chance for him to plant an unforgettable kiss on her yet he did not think about doing that – he was focused in making her feel secure.

"Harry, you think you can manage without me for a bit?" asked Hermione, nodding her head at her son, who seems to have returned to the land of dreams.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"Great."

Hermione sent him an exquisite smile and started to step out of the kitchen but then she paused before passing the doorway. Harry stared at her curiously as she stood there for a minute and then an intake of break was heard coming from him when she turned around to walk back to him and he had to hold his breath altogether as her face neared his to quick him a quick kiss on her cheek, right on the old and new scars on his face. A large part of him was tempted to turn his head just slightly to touch her lips with his but the smallest reasonable piece of him managed to hold him off with an urgent mantra of " _Ginny is still your wife! Ginny is still your wife! Ginny is still your wife!_ " and he stayed still as she pulled back to give him another smile, this one shier and genuine, before she turned and exited the kitchen.

"Do we have any blueberries?" asked Teddy, breaking Harry out of his momentary daze. He saw his godson was going through the refrigerator, yawning widely, and scratching his head, not showing one sign that he might have witnessed the small intimate moment between him and Hermione. Harry was a little relieved by this; he had completely forgotten that Teddy was in the room.

"Top shelf, middle drawer," murmured Harry as he went back to attending the omelet with Lily motionless in sleep in his arm. "Can you take out two cans of coffee soda while you're at it?"

"Sure." Teddy did as he requested and carried the two cans and bag of blueberries at the counter. "And not that I mind, but why is Mum-Ne here?"

"She's wanted to me to look over Hugo for her," explained Harry. "She's just helping me with breakfast before she goes to work."

"Is she coming Trick-or-Treating with us?"

"Yeah, I think so. She asked to tag along."

"Cool." Teddy ripped open the bag of blueberries and started to pop them in his mouth. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," said Harry as he flipped the omelet on a plate. "Why'd you ask?"

"You just seem a little…er, bizarre," Teddy explained through a mouthful of berries, "almost like you were…uncharacteristic, I think is the right word."

"It was nothing – we were just talking," Harry mumbled. Although he knows Teddy could be trusted with secrets and surprises, he figures that neither Hermione nor Ron would want him to know unless it was from them. "Can you pass me the red peppers? Hugo is allergic to the green."

Harry could feel Teddy's eyes digging holes in the back of his head and he never felt so uncomfortable in the same room as his godson before. He tried to not have his hands shake as he mixed yet another batch for an omelet whilst his mind replayed the intense moment he shared with Hermione not too long ago. He could feel his heart pumping erratically, though, like a sputtering engine of a car and he could hear it throbbing in his ears but he tried to ignore it to continue cooking. Finally, he heard Teddy shuffle to the refrigerator and the pressure of his eyes disappeared as the sound of the refrigerator opened again.

Harry lets out a quiet breath to himself and relief washed over him like a waterfall. The entire time he felt a horribly tight knot in the pit of his stomach, clenching in his guts strongly, like he was the suspect of a crime, and he did feel, in a way, that he was one – he was a suspect of cheat and Ginny was the victim. Grief and guilt rose in him at the thought of Ginny. The realization of the actions he took place on Hermione a few minutes ago was now dawning to him and he imagined the look she would have because of his deception. He stopped mixing the eggs; he could feel himself falling into a void of disgrace and failure, the same that he had fallen into when he witness Sirius die. It was not worse like back then but it was still rotten.

"Da'y?" whispered Lily dully.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Are you goin' ter we'r a co'tume?" she asked sluggishly, barely able to fight through the sleep enough to pronounce a proper sentence.

"Do yer want me to?" Harry carefully added the eggs in the skillet and then he hitched Lily higher in his arms when he felt her weight slip a little. Her little head nod against his shoulder and the side of his neck.

"Yer supposed ter," Lily pointed out. "And comin' as yersef doesn' werk."

Harry chuckled. "Alright little one. I'll go as the Grim Reaper or something."

"Yay," Lily cheered lamely and then she became quiet; Harry knew she has fallen back asleep. He rubbed her back to soothe her into calmness so she wouldn't have any nightmares or have a jump scare in her sleep.

"Here you go," said Teddy as he placed the bag of red peppers on the counter. "Want me to put her back to bed?"

Harry glanced at Lily's sleepy face. "Probably the best. Breakfast will be ready soon."

Gingerly, Harry passed Lily into Teddy's arms, the young girl not showing any signs of returning to consciousness but she was subconsciously aware enough to put her arms around Teddy's neck and used him as a pillow. Teddy gently rocked the little witch as he carried her out of the kitchen, quietly humming a simple lullaby, and stroking her crazed hair. It was until he passed the doorway that he nearly collided into Hermione if she hadn't quickly stepped aside.

"I was going to come and see if Lily wanted to sleep too," she explained. "I Transfigured the sofa into a bed if you don't mind," she told Harry. "Figured if they stayed awake, they could entertain themselves with a little bit of telly."

"That's fine."

Lily mumbled something incoherent in her sleep and a small drip of drool leaked onto Teddy's shoulder, making Harry chuckle. She usually drools in her sleep if she is having a horrible nightmare or if she was really tired. Then he was enchanted when Hermione gingerly wiped the saliva from the corner of Lily's mouth then brushed her hair back to plant a kind kiss on her forehead, which caused Lily to whine a bit and shift in Teddy's arms. He never knew seeing a simple motherly act could seem so endearing.

"C'mon little leprechaun," whispered Teddy and he walked out of the kitchen.

Harry was sprinkling the red peppers in the omelet when he felt Hermione's presence come closer to him but he didn't look up as she stood next to him.

"Poor kids," she murmured. "I can't imagine how hard it would be for them if they decide to take extra-curricular activities in Hogwarts. They'd have to stay up later in night and they barely could stay awake so early."

Harry snorted. "Extra-curricular activities are nothing compared to Quidditch practices. Especially on the weekends. You'd have to be barking mad to stay up late the day before."

"You were barking mad to stay up late," huffed Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I remember watching you at one of those practices and would be on the edge of the bleachers whenever a Bludger almost hits you."

Harry didn't mean to; he blushed heavily at the thought of seeing Hermione's bushy hair spotted on the bleachers among the other stragglers and being aware that she was watching him intently. He knew that Hermione would be there to watch over him during practices yet he could feel his skin tingle by this.

"You watch me during practices?"

"Of course," said Hermione. "Someone needs to make sure you keep your head off the ground."

Harry chuckled while trying to lower the blush of his cheeks and to calm his driven heart. She then turned off the stove and flipped the omelet on a plate he summoned from the cabinets before he used his wand to have the plates float towards the table in the dining room. He took the dish towel to wipe his hands.

"Apparently I have a hard head so I don't think I would feel much if I feel," he said with a slight grin, cringing slightly at the memory of Ron's fist cracking against his nose. It still left an impact on him. He noticed that Hermione was looking guilty and bothered then sighed, "I'm guessing Ron told you about that."

Hermione nodded. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have told Ron about the kiss without consulting it with you. If I had known that he would do that –"

"It's fine," Harry intervened. "The truth was bound to come out anyway. I just hope Ron doesn't mention any of it to Ginny. He's been breathing down my shoulder every time he comes over, always asking me when am I going to tell her or have I told her yet and whatnot."

"You're going to tell Ginny?"

"Might as well," sighed Harry. "If I don't then Ron will and I think Ginny hearing it from her brother is worse than hearing it from me. I think I've been cowardly hiding long enough."

"You're no more coward than I am, Harry," Hermione shook her head, crossing her arms. "It took for Ron to be honest with me to finally tell him."

"And it took for Ron to smash my face to gather up the courage to tell Ginny," Harry pointed out jokingly, subconsciously rubbing his nose as if it was throbbing in pain right now. "Godric Gryffindor must be proud of us, yeah?"

"I suppose."

Harry did not like the guilt wrapped in her voice when she answered; he dumped the dish towel in the sink and held her by the shoulders like he did earlier. Hermione tensed under his grasp, much to Harry's dislike, but she did not do anything to pull away from him or to push his hands off her. She was cautiously staring at him, all guarded up.

"Everything will be okay," he told her.

"I'm just worried," she admitted timidly, "about how the kid's would react and the Weasleys and…Ginny. I can already see how she'll look when you tell her."

"Believe me, I know, it's all I've been thinking about," said Harry.

"What do you think it's going to happen after you tell her?"

"Probably get hit with her famous Bat-Bogey Hex."

Hermione cringed and Harry laughed. He gave her a light tap on her shoulders before letting her go.

"Don't worry about it, 'Mione," he said.

"I just…" she paused, "I feel responsible for all of this…If I hadn't drank then none of this would be happening and we'd all be back to the way we were…without all these conflicts. And then there's a possibility of…y-you know…with Ginny…" she trailed off uncertainly and gave him a nervous expression.

"Divorce?" Harry guessed.

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. Harry was enthralled at the sight, reveling in the sight of the plump flesh caught between her pearly white and perfectly aligned teeth; one of the perks of being the daughter of dentists is having a healthy mouth. He was actually jealous of her teeth – he wanted to be the one to bite her lip.

"You want me to be honest?"

Hermione was looking at him warily but nodded. "That would be preferable, yes."

Harry slid his hands off her shoulders, noticing that she became visibly relaxed by his lack of touch, and he ran a hand through his hair, stopping at the nape of his neck to scratch it tensely.

"I think…if Ginny and I get a divorce because of this…it would be best," he said. Hermione's reaction was as he expected it to be; she gasped incredulously and looked at him in bewilderment.

"W-what? Why would you say that?" she inquired.

Harry shrugged. "I just think it's best. Not because of what's happened but…just because. I think it will help us both."

Hermione's forehead frowns. "Harry…are you and Ginny having problems?"

"No," said Harry quickly, "no, everything is alright with us. Completely normal."

Hermione arched a brow. "Harry, be honest."

"I am," Harry replied somewhat defensively, feeling a bit vexed that she would instantly assume him to be dishonest with her. Then a voice in his head quickly countered him with, _but you're lying to her right now._

"Then why would you be okay with a divorce?" said Hermione. "You two seem quite happy together."

Harry sighed. "Do we really? Lily doesn't seem to think so and I think she's right."

"What does Lily have to do with any of this?"

Harry braced himself strong as he retold the story, or at least part that involved Ginny, from the moment he flew the night with Teddy, to the small talk he had with Lily about his marriage with Ginny in question, and to finally to his discussion with Ron. He did not tell her the main reason of his deflated feelings for Ginny because he was not sure how Hermione would react if she knew and because he did not feel ready to confess to her about his feelings, not when she is going through the divorce with Ron and her case against Rowle is only two days away. When he finished, he watched keenly at the gears in her head seem to turn as she took in everything he told her. He figured he must have been talking for quite a while because he can hear Hugo and Lily loudly talking in the dining room, very awake, and Teddy trying to keep them in control.

"You don't love Ginny anymore," she said too softly that Harry barely managed to hear her.

"Yeah."

Hermione suddenly seemed remorseful. "You – this is happening because of – that night, right? You're not thinking this way out of guilt are you?"

"Seriously, Hermione, I just told you all of that and you come up with that?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"It just doesn't make sense!" Hermione said. "You've been in love with Ginny for so long and for you to suddenly come out and say you're not anymore is just, well, improbable. I mean waking up and not realizing you don't love someone anymore like that doesn't just happen. You must have some problems together for this to happen."

"Things change," murmured Harry; Hermione seemed unnerved when he said that and he couldn't understand why.

"But –"

"Hermione, I don't love her anymore," Harry continued. "Yes, our marriage wasn't bad for me to come to this decision but…my feelings for her changed. I don't see her the same way I used to anymore and she deserved to know. About this – about the kiss. Being stuck with her in a loveless marriage with hurt her more than anything and you know that true."

Hermione resigned. "I'll have to agree with you on the last bit. I can understand that. But, Harry, are you sure this is what you want? A divorce?"

"Are you sure about your divorce with Ron?"

"Ours is different – we're mutual on it. But you're focused on how you feel. Have you ever stopped to consider how this will affect Ginny and the kids?"

"More than once," said Harry. "I know I'll have to split everything with her and it will take time for the kids to adjust but that doesn't mean I'm going anywhere. I already told Lily that when she cried."

"Poor girl," said Hermione, craning her head to peer in the dining room through the doorway. "She was suspecting it to happen and she was already in tears. I don't want to even think about how she'll be if it does."

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry retorted. "I made sure she knew that."

"And James and Albus?"

"Haven't told them anything yet. Hopefully Lily hasn't told them anything through her letters."

"This is mad," mumbled Hermione, rubbing her temples. "I can't believe that this is – how is this all happening?"

Harry shook her head. "I don't know but it's happening."

Hermione nodded, still rubbing her temples. He observed her assiduously, taking in her actions. He can tell that she is stressed by reading her body language: her pale face, her eyes downcast, and her inability to remain still. He was not sure why the probability of his marriage with Ginny coming to an end was more discouraging to her than it was to him. He wondered if it has anything to do with the unexplainable distance between her and Ginny. Maybe she is worried about how the ginger will behave if the choice of divorce ever came. Or perhaps she was more concern over his sons and how they will be if he and Ginny separated. He doesn't think she has reason be a worrywart about his relationship with Ginny – she isn't exactly part of it. Then it hit Harry; she was thinking of the similarity between their family and it was making her more tormented about her own children, specifically about Rose.

Harry scratched his head, unsure on what he should say now. It seemed no matter what he tells her, Hermione will always bounce back in thinking of the worst when it comes to her children and he couldn't make himself annoyed by her for that. Thinking back at her history with them, he cannot criticize her for her fears and doubts. It seems that until the moment came that Ron and Hermione tell Rose and Hugo about the divorce, she would not be at ease with whatever he says. The horror of losing altogether was too great for Hermione no matter how brave she is to face her fate.

An idea lights up in his head like a bulb, a smile creeping on his face. He had thought about the night she took him to the planetarium and how the conversation of constellations somehow managed to Japanese legends behind the stars then followed by Chinese philosophy. He was not sure how it went to that direction but he had learned a lot about Asian culture and how deep Hermione's knowledge is of their history. He figured she read about them in a history book.

Harry went to one of the drawers and pulled out a Sharpie pen before he went back to Hermione, who was watching him, absorbed in curiosity of his actions and asking him a thousand questions through her eyes. Wordlessly, he popped the cap off and took her hand; he started to slowly, carefully, draw out the shape that she had drew out with the _Flagrate_ charm on her wrist then he filled in the shape in black ink, only living a small circle uncolored. When he was done, he let Hermione examine the drawing for a while before realization dawned in her eyes and the luminous smile he longed to see was translucent for him.

Hermione took the marker from him and grabbed his hand. Harry watched her face instead of her hand, which was now drawing the same drawing on his wrist, only it remained colorless with one black dot and the edges darken. Once she was done, he looked down at his wrist and smiled tenderly at the art.

"Yin and Yang," she said quietly. "I can't believe you remember that."

"Is it so hard to know I listen?" asked Harry with a mock hurt in his eyes.

Hermione giggled. "You don't usually listen to a word I say if it didn't involve sports or work or the kids."

"Well," said Harry seriously, "it was really interesting to listen to. I never knew Chinese philosophy can be intriguing; two opposite forces that are different in everything however they are needed to coexist one another. It makes sense when it's explained that way."

By now, Hermione was giving him a look of, what he assumed to be, adoration and affection that he could feel his face burn fiercely in ruby red. He was not used, or expected, to receive such looks from her that isn't admiration or faith, and to be standing in front of her with such an openly emotionally expression has him feeling all sorts of elation and confusion simultaneously. The fact of him listening to her must have made her feel appreciated and relevant and not at all boring to him. He speculated that she must have felt that way before.

"So you're saying we're polar opposites?" asked Hermione with a smirk as she lightly traced the Yin drawing.

"More or less," said Harry, grinning.

"Yours came out better than mine," she told him, her voice live and bright. "The one I did with my wand was more authentic. I don't think I'm meant to be an artist."

"I guess it's the only thing I'm better at than you," Harry chuckled. He held his arm out, palm up, showing the drawing piece with pride, and he was glad to see her do the same with hers; the sign of Yin and Yang was completed.

"Don't forget flying."

"That too."

Hermione smiled down at their hands. "What's really the point of doing this? I'm curious to know."

"Aren't you always?" teased Harry, earning a light shove to the shoulder from her free hand. He glanced down at their hands as he said, "Well Yin and Yang need each other to keep things balanced, right?"

"Right."

"And if you think about it…" Harry paused to lick his dry lips, suddenly feeling shy, "we…we need each other right now…With our marriages and kids and jobs…stuff like that," he murmured, glancing down at his feet, blushing deeper than before, all the while thinking, _I'm acting like I'm fourteen. Grow up, Potter!_

"Oh Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around his neck, making him sputter nervously, and when she kissed him on the cheek, he felt he was going to faint from all the blood rushing into his head. He did not want to know what kind of red he was sporting. "Thank you! This is the most thoughtful thing I've ever gotten!"

"I-it's no problem," stammered Harry while tentatively wrapping one arm around her, not knowing where to put the other one. In spite of the many hugs he has given Hermione the past months, he was still trying to get used to such physical affection as he isn't the most eloquent person in the world. Then when he felt her fingers lightly caress the hair on the nape of his neck, he thought he was going to faint as blood kept pumping upward.

"Really, Harry, thank you," she said quietly. "I'm happy to know you'll be there with me."

As soon as she said this and he heard the compassion in her voice, Harry's stiff demeanor melted. He wrapped his other arm around her to tighten his hold, pulling her harder against him until he felt that their fronts were molded together, and he rested his chin on her shoulder as he delicately rubbed her back, the curls of her hair tickling the side of his face.

"Always," he whispered into the blade of her shoulder, his breath sweeping across the curve of her neck, and when he heard her intake of breath and felt her embrace go sturdy, he knew she caught the hidden promise behind his word: he will always be there with her.

* * *

Later in the day, after breakfast ended and Hermione apparated to the Ministry, Harry had taken the kids and Teddy to Diagon Alley to pick up their costumes from the holiday store Hermione mentioned ( _Fright's Delight_ ). Harry had gotten it several days before but had it be prepared to fit Lily's size properly. It seemed Hermione or Ron have decided to get Hugo's costume from the same store when they spotted it because Hermione had asked Harry the favor to check if Hugo's was ready for the night and if it is then if he could mention it to Ron to pick it up during his lunch time – Harry, of course, volunteered without a second thought. Hermione protested but Harry managed to make her forget when he told her she will be tardy for work and she was out of the house in a blink of an eye.

The holiday store was an exact replica of the famously known haunted house, the Shrieking Shack, only it was expanded to be ten stories tall. It was surprisingly detailed when Harry entered the store; the windows and the main entrance were meant to look boarded up but the wood could be able to be pushed open like the ones of a saloon in those western films Harry saw, and would be instantly greeted by two gargoyle statues next to the door. The first floor, which is meant to be the foyer, has the chair with a broken leg. The walls were covered in peeled wallpaper, along with 'blood stains' splattered across the cracked floorboards, which would creak at some spots if stepped over. The prop furniture was shredded and torn. The rickety staircase guided by wall torches led up to different floors designed as dusty room that held selections of costumes appropriate for kids to teenagers, from adults to elder, and from decent to intimate.

Harry, upon keeping his word to Lily, went through the racks for a costume that would not draw attention (not as much as he gets now) and doesn't stand out ridiculously. Teddy didn't buy a costume despite Lily and Hugo's encouragement, always stating that he could become any costume he wanted to be and still save money. The kids had tried to help Harry find a decent costume for him but they lacked in assistance as they ended up trying on different styles and jokingly modeling them in hilarious poses, much to Harry and Teddy's amusement. However, the kids had given Harry the idea to humor the public and chose to purchase a costume of a mobster that easily resembled of one of a gang he had captured during his earlier years as Head Auror.

After they got the kid's fitted costumes, they ended up exploring through the streets of Diagon Alley to admire the many decorations set up for the holiday. Some shop owners were still hanging up the remains of their ornaments. The most main attraction was the statue of Merlin battling a clan of rabid magical creatures in the center of the marketplace; Harry was happy to know that no one had decided to carve a statue of him for his defeat of Voldemort. There were international wizards and witches piling up in the stores and crowding the cobblestone pathways as they toured the miraculous area with such excited energy. Flashes of cameras were seen as families took pictures in front of the statue or of a life-size decoration and couple taking loving photographic memories, taking turns for individuals or a couple together.

At one point, they were trapped in the middle of part-time employees performing a spectacular dance show to advertise the store paying them with a small amateur group of musicians playing a catching folk song. Some of them had dragged the kids into the group to participate, keeping them in the middle, as they kept on with the choreographed flash mob. During the moment when the employees would freeze during the pause of the song, the kids would manage yet one or the other would playfully knock over each other while trying to not laugh too loud but their good-nature manner quite whimsical to watch.

The performance ended in time or Harry and the group to catch a wonderful sight of a wizard asking his girlfriend's hand in marriage and the crowd that formed around them had howled in cheers when she accepted.

"I hope one day I'll find someone who will love me that much," remarked Lily as she watched the many witnesses, who were probably family members of the recently engaged couple, come up to them and give them congratulatory pats on the back and pecks on the cheeks. The witches were goading over the engagement ring with excited squeals and the wizards were sharing boisterous laughter.

Hugo was gagging in disgust, Teddy was laughing in skepticism at Lily's words, and Harry was going green. He didn't mind that Lily thought of romance, as he learned from the only women in his life that the thought of a shared infinite love is a weakness of theirs no matter how independent they are, but the idea of his daughter thinking about it so soon was like a red flag to him. He, like most fathers of any world, did not want his young girl to be involved with any boys until in her late fifties or at least until he is dead.

Eventually, they all stopped in a nice, comfortable café that was built next to Florean Fortescue's in late 1999 during reconstruction that only served appetizing meals and rich beverages. Harry made Hugo promise to not tell Hermione about the ice cream cake he ate and Lily to not tell Ginny that he allowed her to have a double cheese burger because he knew how angry Hermione would be if she finds cavities during Hugo's next dental check-up and Lily to smell of grease. He had also given Teddy a tenner knowing he has the tendency of dropping hints to the witches out of hilarity to Harry's chagrin.

They spent the whole day in Diagon Alley, enjoying the bustling activities from every shop festively decorated and being dragged in to blithely participate in any street show, until the clock struck eight 'o clock and they apparated to the Burrow. The crooked house was hardly recognizable with the addition of the boarded up windows, the corners of the artic to the entrance coated in cobwebs and plastic spiders crawling over them, many layers of dried leaves covering over more than two feet of their property, torches lighting up a path to the front door where there are was a bowl of candies waiting for the greedy hands of sugar-hungered kids. The door was a quilt of plastic bugs enchanted to crawl around realistically but it still made Harry hesitate to touch the knob and when he, along with Teddy and the kids, entered the warm household, he was met with an eccentric Mrs. Weasley scurrying across the kitchen, preparing the evening feast with the help of Ginny and Hermione.

"Oh Harry! Thank goodness you're here!" rejoiced Mrs. Weasley as she trapped Harry in one of her bone-crushing hug. "I need you to help me with a little situation; the Muggle-Repelling Charm is a bit weak. I've been so busy with decorations that I haven't gotten the time to do it myself. You think you can take care of that for me?"

"Sure."

Teddy pouted. "Why not ask me for that, Granny?"

"I need you for another thing, Teddy, dear" said Mrs. Weasley. "I need you to set up the Blockage Charm in the back. Those nosy gnomes will try to sneak out to steal the candy."

"On it," said Teddy with a grin as he took out his wand from within his robes and quickly barged out to the backyard with little too much enthusiasm.

From the living room area, George, who was attending the many pots of vine trees by the windows with Mr. Weasley, lets out a snort and grumbled a low "Lucky sod" before he hissed in pain when he got pricked by one of the spikes. In the kitchen, a loud clutter was heard, making Mrs. Weasley gasp tensely and Harry jump at how loud it was. The kids laugh as the sound of their mothers whispering rapidly and sounded to be on edge. Even Angelina had come from one of the room with her costume slightly rumpled so Harry assumed she was in the middle of putting it on.

"What was that?" demanded Mrs. Weasley.

"Nothing!" replied Ginny and Hermione quickly together before another row of urgent whispers took over. Everyone but Mrs. Weasley laughed.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley glanced back at Harry hopefully. "Will you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Cheers."

Mrs. Weasley gave him a thankful kiss on the cheek before she scurried into the kitchen with an air of desperation and anxiety. It wasn't a minute later, her voice could be heard demanding the two witches what had caused the mess in her kitchen and everyone cringed at her shrilly tone, however, Harry was able to catch the sheepish voices of his wife and best friend being overheard through Mrs. Weasley's scolding. He wished the best of luck for the two witches against the redhead's wrath. Just then, as Angelina ascended the rickety staircase and George and Mr. Weasley went back to tending the vine trees, a door opened in one of the stories nearby, and a familiar freckled face poked over the railing.

"Hi dad!" said Hugo.

"Hey little tyke!" replied Ron with a grin. "Finally got your costume?"

"Yep!" Hugo held up his dragon-stitched costume, which was covered by a plastic wrapping, for his father to see and grinned proudly.

"Great, so how's about you take the bathroom while it's still free?" suggested Ron, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "You know how long it takes for girls to get ready."

Angelina, who had reached the same landing as Ron, had given him a playful smack on the head , making him give her a false hurtful look then chuckled, as she passed him and she disappeared, a door heard closing in seconds.

"Never mind, your Aunt Lina took it," he said. "You can use my old room, if you like. Lily, I'm sure your mum won't mind if you went to her room."

Lily took her costume from Harry's hand as Hugo already started speeding up the creaking staircase, jumped up to give him a kiss on the cheek like Mrs. Weasley did earlier, before she sprinting after her cousin's trail, the costume flapping over her shoulder. Harry laughed under his breath as the kid's thumping footsteps echoed from the floors above, along with doors slamming shut, and decided to fulfill Mrs. Weasley's request while they got dressed; he hung his costume on a wooden chair nearby, took out his wand, and stepped outside.

The yard of the Burrow never changed even after the war; the garage was still small and stored with Mr. Weasley's precious Muggle artifacts and the Ford Anglia he had managed to reclaim from within the Black Forest was parked beside the small house, restored to its former glory from a new paint job to air-filled tires. The chicken coop was packed with occasional clucks. And at the main entrance, he could clearly see the sign that reads _The Burrow_. The latest addition to the family environment was the ring of driftwood logs that had been used for parties and special gatherings. There was also a fire circle in place, filled with black ashes. There were piles of broken branches and dried leaves next to the ring that made Harry wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley used it recently.

Harry stood by the main entrance, leaning against the small gate, using his wand to create multi-colored sparks as he thought back at the thousand memories this place held; good and bad. He tried not to dwell on it too much because he feared he might have another mental breakdown and he did not want to cause worry for the others. He watched the sparks in silence for distraction instead; the only sounds to be heard were the distant voices inside the house and the crackle coming from the tip of his wand.

He loved the Burrow – it was very much obvious. This home is where the people he loves now inhabited in and where he was welcomed onto its grounds like he was a distant family member who traveled millions miles away for a visit. They, the Weasleys, made him feel something he never got throughout his earlier childhood and that was acceptance. It was an alien thing to him to be near people and to not repel away from him in repulsion because he wore hand-me-downs and was scrawny from lack of proteins. Each member of the redhead family gave him what he desired selfishly; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took in the role of his parents, one to consult him for male problems and the other to make sure he had a full stomach, the twins, Fred and George, although older than him, reminded him of two little mischievous brothers who provided him the missed laughter and loss of a smile, Bill and Charlie were like the old brothers who Harry could look up to for inspiration because of their choice of careers. He could not say much about Percy; he was still a bit rocky with him after he abandoned his family for the same people who were in denial about Voldemort.

Then there is Ron. An endless friend with flaws and a loyal brother who is an equal to Harry in his own unique way. Ron filled in the void of a missing half in Harry's life; Ron was everything that Harry was weak in – a bright light in darkness and a sense of contained sanity through relaxation. He was like the candle that helped Harry get through his struggles and he could have been the flame for another when he had the chance but Ron always remained by Harry's side even when he is gone. Harry wasn't sure how he would have lasted without his odd friendship with Ron.

Harry frowned as he thought about the final sibling of the family; Ginny. He decided to push that aside. He was always occupied with her tear-stained face in his mind whenever she was thought of and he couldn't risk his mood change drastically to gloomy now, not when he is in the same grounds as the same family he was appreciating.

"Sickles for your thoughts?" said a voice behind him and Harry peered over his shoulder to see Ron had followed him out. He looked over the redhead's costume; a red vest over a white dress shirt with a bowtie and a long black cape with a collar big enough to shield his neck. His ginger hair was combed back and seems to be held by hair gel.

Harry snickered, "What are you wearing?"

Ron scowled. "Hermione told us you invited us to come Trick-or-Treating with you and dad suggested we went incognito in case we decided to go through some Muggle neighborhoods," he explained grumpily as he stepped to Harry's side and leaned against the gate. "Muggles are a bunch of offensive gits, you know. How can they think that vampires look like this?"

"It's just their imagination, I guess," Harry chuckled.

"I was hoping dad was pulling the mickey out of me when he told me this is how they dress but then Hermione said they do," said Ron. "I feel ridiculous."

"You look like Malfoy with that hair, mate."

Ron glared at Harry, mortified. "Don't. Ever. Say. That!" he warned dangerously. Harry held his hands up in surrender while smirking. "Anyway, what's taking you so long? Muggle-Repelling Charms aren't that hard."

Harry shrugged. "Just…enjoying the view, I guess."

"Got a lot on your mind?"

"You could say it like that."

"Thinking about Ginny and Hermione?"

"Something between the lines," sighed Harry. He then raised his wand, muttering a low " _Repello Muggletum Maxima_ " before pocketing it and watched the leaves rustle along with the gust of wind and an energy of security blow past him; the area was secure now within miles from any Muggles.

"Have you told Ginny yet?" asked Ron.

"I wouldn't be here if I did," Harry retorted, a little hotly. He knew Ron meant well, especially when his younger sister's feelings are on the line of getting crushed, but he was getting annoyed whenever Ron would urge him on with his decision in telling Ginny whenever they were alone. It was getting to the point that he rather avoid Ron altogether.

"Are you even planning to tell her?" Ron demanded.

"Yes, Ron," Harry groaned, "I told you I would."

"It's been weeks since you said you would," snarled Ron, "and you're still stringing her along. If you don't say anything then I will."

"Ron, we've been through this," Harry said. "We're going through it every time we talk."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear it all the time. _She needs to hear it from me_. So far, I'm starting to doubt it more the longer you wait to tell her," Ron snorted. "You know before I wouldn't even think of you being the type to play these games with girls but right now I'm not so sure."

"I'm not playing any games," growled Harry, his temper starting to boil at the accusations.

"Sure as hell looks like it from where I'm standing," Ron said, his face reddening in anger. "For all I know, you're probably just telling me this to procrastinate. I might as well tell everyone right now and expose you for the lying arsehole you are."

Harry seized his wand again from his pocket and, with all of his strength, he swished a ball of molting fire towards the driftwood while letting out a loud roar of " _Incendio!_ " and then flames quickly licked up the dry wood, shooting up towards the sky in a blazing blue-green tower. Ron stepped a few feet back, staring wide-eyed at the fire as it shrunk down, then he looked back at Harry in bewilderment. Harry was not sure what kind of face he was making but he was quite certain that it has Ron thinking carefully about his choice of words. From the corner of his eye, Harry can see that his outburst had attracted an audience as Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione peered from the kitchen window while George and Mrs. Weasley were standing by the door.

"Quite easy for you to say since you're not in this position," Harry shot back, still gripping his wand. "Lucky you that my wife is your sister and not Hermione or you would have been stuck like me. But you're not. So you can't say much if you don't know what it's like."

Ron glared. "I _was_ in that position! For ages!"

"Yeah, with Luna and Hermione!" Harry barked, his patience finally broken and his frustrations snapped. "Last time I checked; neither of them are your best friend's sister and Hermione wasn't in love with you so you didn't have to worry about not hurting her!"

"But I did worry about hurting her, you prat!"

"So you should know how I'm feeling, you git! It's not easy!"

"At least I grew a pair to tell her the truth!"

"Only because you don't have a lot to lose!" said Harry. "What would you have lost? Hermione's trust? Your children? You know you would have gotten her forgiveness back quickly – she isn't one to hold a grudge! As for your children – they would never turn their back on you. You're the perfect father for them, being able to spend more than a few minutes with them every day and never having to take mandatory meetings or go through late night shifts! How lucky of you!"

"I still took the risk of losing all of that!" roared Ron.

"But you didn't!" said Harry. "Just because you were lucky with Hermione, doesn't mean I will be with Ginny! They're not the same person!"

"You still have to tell Ginny!"

Harry took a deep breath to keep himself calm. "You know what, Ron? Since it's so easy for you to hurt everyone then go ahead and tell Ginny. You obviously won't give me time to tell her myself with your persistence."

"I might as well!"

At this point, Mr. Weasley and George had come out into the yard once they saw that Harry and Ron were dangerously pushing each other's limits. George took Ron back inside the house, struggling to hold him back whilst Ron continued to shout " _You bloody tosser!_ " and pushing against George's grasps. It wasn't until Hermione came by to take Ron with her and pulled him to a walk with her away from the Burrow, his voice heard loud but unclear in words as he ranted at her. Mr. Weasley, after he killed the fire, tried to convince Harry into telling him what was all the commotion for as they walked towards the garage, but Harry wouldn't budge; he was adamant to not make the situation worse than it already was. He tried to apologize to Mr. Weasley for the unnecessary row with Ron but his attempts were quickly shrugged off.

"You don't need to apologize to me, Harry," said Mr. Weasley calmly. "I am worried, though, about you and Ron. I've never seen you two go at it like that before and I sure hope it will be the last – in my home, no less. Especially with the kids here."

Harry looked down shamefully. "I'm sorry. It's just…something," he finished lamely.

"I see. You seem to be going through a rough patch for the past weeks," said Mr. Weasley.

"Don't I always?"

"Very much. But that usually comes from your life as an Auror, not with family," Mr. Weasley answered with a faint smile. "Is it something that I should be concern about?"

Harry hesitated to respond, not knowing quite surely if he should admit to his father-in-law about his inner conflict or keep the secret hidden as long as he could until Ron decides to reveal it, and he chose to glance around at the many Muggle contraptions organized inside the garage. Thinking about Ron brought a great wave of panic in him and he can only hope that Hermione was doing her best to keep him leveled during their walk.

"Honestly, Mr. Weasley, it is something that you should be concern about," admitted Harry, "but it's more of who you should be concern about, to be more specific."

"And judging by your tone, you won't tell me who," added Mr. Weasley.

"I want to," Harry replied quickly, "but I need to get things sorted out before I do. I'm still trying to come up with alternatives that could lessen the blow when I do. It's complicated," he added as an afterthought.

"I can see that, clearly," said Mr. Weasley. "And what about Ron? Is he part of it?"

"Yes – in a way."

"So he isn't entirely involved. I'm guessing that's what started the row –"

"No, no, he is involved…in his own way, I mean," Harry explained. "He knows what's going on but he's been incessant for me to get on with what's going on. He's trying to help out so it could benefit in both ways and it's been going on since I told him about it but I guess I sort of reached my limit with him. Apparently, he has too."

"Don't worry about Ron," Mr. Weasley reassured the dark-haired wizard. "He just needs a little bit of space away from you and cool down. He'll talk to you normally again before midnight."

Harry nodded. He could only hope that Ron does forgive him before the night ends. In an odd way, despite Ron constantly weighing on him in confessing to Ginny, it relaxed Harry that Ron knew about everything. It was like a burden had been lessened.

"As for this conflict you have," continued Mr. Weasley, crossing his arms, "how bad is it?"

Harry swallowed hard, nearly choking, before saying, "Very. It depends on your reaction when I tell you, which I have no doubt will be bad. I want to apologize in advance, Mr. Weasley, I never meant for it to happen. I want you to know that."

"I have no doubt you didn't, Harry, with whatever's going on," Mr. Weasley told him. "I can tell by the way you are now that it's eating you alive so you don't have to apologize to me for anything."

"But I do. It's the least I can do with everything that's been going on," said Harry. "It's a long overdue apology either way."

Mr. Weasley stayed silent. He was observing Harry assiduously like he was a piece of broken Muggle device and was trying to detect the cause of the problem. Harry kept his gaze on his father-in-law firm and steady despite feeling uneasy being looked over. He finds it ironic that it was normal for him to scan people for signs of dishonesty and thought-up attacks but he was different when people tried to do the same on him for troubled times and anxiety.

"You know, Harry, no matter what you'll always be a son and brother to us all; you don't need the red hair to be part of this family," Mr. Weasley suddenly said, surprising Harry by his words. "Although you can't tell me what is going on, which I can respect, I can only tell you this; no matter how much you think about it, the result will always end the same. You could be the most cordial person in the world speaking in the most sincere way you ever could and the truth will always stay ugly. But it's your intentions with that truth that makes it better."

Harry's jaw slacked open and his eyes went wide. The impact of Mr. Weasley's word hit him harder than two Bludgers could together and he somehow felt mollified over by a cloud of alleviation as he took in the advice. He can safely say that Mr. Weasley had put together what was going on and instead of dismissing him like a father should do if a man ever hurts their daughter, he took a role of a father giving him a long-needed advice he never knew he would get. It gave him an inkling of hope and brought back the courage he had lost long ago.

"Mr. Weasley, what would you do if you were me?" asked Harry. "If one day you woke up and realize you loved Mrs. Weasley less than a wife and more of a sister, or as just a best friend, what would you do?"

Mr. Weasley looked intently at Harry over his glasses. "I would be doing what you probably are now – coming up with ways to tell her the truth and figuring out which would hurt her less. But I know I won't succeed because there is no other way to not hurt her with the truth, so I can only hope that the best turns out for her and everyone else who gets affected with what comes."

Harry frowned and nodded.

"But, at the same time, I need to be the one to remind her how better off she was before she met me and make her believe that she will be the same after meeting me," Mr. Weasley continued. "For example, Molly – without a doubt in my mind – will stay the same as she's always been if she and I were to ever separate. She's strong and well-kept. I remind her every day."

"Your marriage says so," Harry smiled weakly. He never really did express it obviously to anyone but he had always admired Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's marriage from the moment he witnessed it; it showed potential and a passion that never seems to die in spite of their bickers and disagreements. Every little thing they do for each other was a huge gesture and Harry figured that is what made it enough for them. They don't live in the biggest mansion of the wizarding world or where the most posh clothes in sale yet they lived in satisfaction as if they did. They were the inspirational example of what a well-functioning couple should be and Harry thought he found that with Ginny but he could see it takes more than what he does to make a marriage work like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's.

"Harry," said Mr. Weasley, his tone suddenly turned serious, "there is nothing worse in the world than being a loveless marriage; whether it is you or Ginny, both of you will stay unhappy the longer it goes. I'd even go as far as to say you'll end up hating each other. You need to give more than you can take and if Ginny is away she can't give because you won't take then you already know how that will go. You know her, aside from me and Molly, more than anyone else."

"I do, and that's why –" began Harry but Mr. Weasley cut him off by holding up a hand.

"I get that you're scared," Mr. Weasley remarked, "and it's alright to be. I'd be more furious with you if you weren't. I know you don't want to hurt Ginny but it's the reality of everything – some things aren't meant to last and, Ginny is my daughter, I'd prefer that she is apart from you and be happy rather than together with you and miserable. Same goes for you, Harry."

Harry raised a brow. "Aren't you the least bit upset with me right now?"

"I am upset that you will be hurting my daughter, Harry, but I can't tell you what to do or how to feel. I have no control over that," Mr. Weasley answered casually. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and implored him with soft eyes. "Just keep in mind that no matter what happens, you will always be part of this family. Way before you and Ginny started you were part of it and that's never going to change. Yes, it will take us a while to get used to what happens but we won't turn our back to you so don't be afraid that you'll lose us for this."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," said Harry in relief. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Harry, you've known me for years," Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Call me Arthur."

"Sorry," Harry grinned sheepishly. "Force of habit."

"Break it," Mr. Weasley smiled. He wrapped an arm around Harry's broad shoulders and started to guide him back to the house, where they could hear the hustling and bustling of Molly Weasley has returned. "Now come – let's see how big the damage is without us."

Harry just laughed his first genuine smile in the past few weeks as he pictured the tired glares of Angelina and Ginny sent to Mrs. Weasley and her zooming across the room all frantically.

* * *

After an half hour of chatter, everyone decided to head over to Liverpool to begin Trick-or-Treating for Hugo and Lily. Molly chose to stay in the Burrow for when any stragglers came by for candy and said she would have the feast prepared before they returned. True to Harry's word, Liverpool was transformed into a gruesome event with bloody haunted houses, Muggles dressed as walking corpses scattered over the streets scaring an unlucky bystander, and surprisingly realistic special effects from the projectors of the neighbors. The kids were on a rampage in raiding every house in sight of their candy while the adults would watch them closely from the street and holding their pounds of candy. Luckily, Hermione had brought her beanie bag and had casted the Extendable Charm to hold the candy in.

During their time, the group separated into two; Teddy, Angelina, George, and Mr. Weasley went ahead to search for the wizarding spot for adults while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny took the kids around for Trick-or-Treating and the haunted events.

The popular attractions caught the eye of the adults when Ginny asked a local of their reputation and they were amused to see what the Muggles have created; the number one scare spot was the House of the Dead, a forty minute walk through for those who were brave enough to make it to the far end. It was as they expected it to be; people with fantastic makeup work and convincing costume would pop out from the dark shadows or what seems like an empty doorway to cause a jump scare to their chosen victim. The adults were unfazed by their feeble attempts but they would laugh whenever the kids would shriek at an unexpected scare and Harry, being an Auror, would twitch into a protective stance out of instinct. Ginny had to stuff his wand in Hermione's bag to make sure he wouldn't accidentally hex another.

Aside from that, they had an enjoyable time in the House of the Dead.

The Terror Trail disappointed them a little; the same local who Ginny talked to had told them that it was of real-life ghosts, ghouls, and zombies, and that led them to believe that it was a wizard spot but when they got there, they learned it was only a walk through in the dark woods to the Ribby Hall with special effects and actors organized by a group of art department student from a university. The kids have gotten rather bored halfway through the walk and the parents did not hesitate to disapparate out of the area.

Farmageddon was the most pleasant one to the family; the bizarre costumes and creatures that encountered will actually made everyone scream then laugh at the irony. The disfigured pigs were disturbing, the wickedly smiling clowns made on feel uncomfortable, the experimented mutants were absolutely frightening, the killer farmers had them anxious to leave the house, and those who were a 'victim' of being slaughtered in the barn kept Hugo and Lily on their toes as the actors playing were kids. Unfortunately, the actors who were able to cause a scream out of one from the group would follow them throughout the walk as it was a new feature of the event, which left everyone on edge at every corner; Ron was targeted by a little girl with no eyes, Ginny was stalked by a mutant with a pig's snout and no jaw, Lily was haunted by an evil clown with giant ears, Hugo was frightened by a red-skinned man with hooves, and Hermione was screaming at the sight of a look-alike of Freddy Krueger. Harry was being followed by a man in a torn black robe that reminded him too much of a Dementor.

"Thank Merlin!" gasped Hermione once they exited the barn and she sat on a haystack as she placed a hand on her chest, breathing heavily. "Good heavens, my heart is racing!"

"Yours was the least scary out of all of us," said Ginny, who was always trying to take deep breaths to keep calm.

"I'll take yours any day than being stuck being Freddy Krueger," Hermione retorted. "Did they really have to follow us?"

"That's what they're getting paid for," said Ron as he sat on the floor, leaning against the haystack next to Hermione's legs. "Who's Freddy Krueger? Is he famous?"

"He's a fictional character from a Muggle horror film," Hermione murmured, her cheek flaring up. " _A Nightmare on Elm Street_."

"I've heard of it," Harry responded, grinning. "Dudley wouldn't sleep in his own bed for a month and he'd pee himself at night whenever he heard a noise."

"Ew!" Lily gagged while Hugo laughed heartily.

"It's horrible," said Hermione. "I regret the day my father let me watch it with him. That's what I get for begging them to let me stay past my curfew. I should have listened to mum."

Hugo looked up at his mother pleadingly. "Can I watch it?"

"No!" said Hermione and Ron together. Hugo groaned and crossed his arms with a pout.

Harry pulled back the sleeve of his costume to check the time on his wristwatch and whistled, "We should get going if we want to catch the scareshow on the Wirral. After that let's head over to Victoria Park for the festival – I heard they have loads of activities to do."

"Like what?" asked Ginny.

"Lots – it's a wizard spot so there's no telling what's there," Harry explained. "But there are a lot of things for the kids to do like; crafting, pumpkin carving, bat hunting, and puppet shows –"

"Sounds like typical Muggle stuff," Hugo remarked.

" – I even heard you get to shoot zombies," Harry added, smirking when he saw Lily and Hugo's eyes light up in pure excitement and they started fiercely chatter among themselves about who can shoot the most zombies in record time. He turned to the others and said, "There's also a spot for us to relax in – live music, hog roasts, and a beer tent. Restricted section, no kids allowed."

Ron shot up to his feet. "Let's get moving then!"

Harry smiled weakly at his best friend's sudden regained enthusiasm; he and Ron were not talking at the moment but they were well enough to be able to walk together without problems. It seemed Hermione managed to calm him down earlier.

Suddenly he heard the said witch scream: she was sprawled across the ground, her face drained into an impossible white shade, and she was breathing heavily, almost gasping for air. Ginny was leaning against her knees, wheezing through her laughter and tears leaking on her face. The kids were rolling on the ground, clutching on their stomach and kicking their feet as they laughed breathlessly at Hermione. And then, hovering behind the haystack where she once say, was the look-alike Freddy Krueger standing confidently with a sinister smile stretching his burnt face and baring his bladed gloves. His dark brown fedora was torn around the edges like his green-and-red striped sweater and it was coated in dripping blood that supposedly belonged to his dead targets.

Once he saw Hermione's pale face, he walked away in satisfaction.

Ginny was without a breath as she tried to gasp out, "Y-your face! H-H-Hermione, you…you should have s-seen it! P-priceless!"

Harry couldn't prevent himself from joining the laughing feet, eventually becoming breathless like the red and his face turning red. Hermione was still on the ground, staring at the spot where the actor once stood, her eye still wide and her mouth open in horror, paralyzed in terror at what just transpired. Harry figured she was in shock at the fact that the actor had followed her out of the haunted barn and the gears in her head were turning.

"M-mum?" said Hugo, rolling onto his front. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, that was a nasty fall you took," added Lily, releasing a couple of giggles here and there.

Everyone paused from their chortling to stare at Hermione's pale face, waiting for her to show signs of her shock dissipating, a couple of them letting out a quick chuckle here and there to relieve the tension, and Harry was beginning to worry about her until, after a moment, she finally spoke in a feeble yet strong voice.

"I _despise_ that git," she said through gritted teeth.

Hugo, Lily, and Ginny broke into another fresh round of laughter. Ron held out his hand to Hermione, who gratefully accepted it, and she brushed off the grass and hay from the trousers of her costume. Harry then caught in sight what she was wearing; an exact replica of the outfit of Rey from Star Wars: The Force Awakens, completed with a pouch belt, cuffs, and the boots. Her hair was the same as it was in the morning. He glanced at himself then back at her with a bashful smile and chuckled at the irony; he was an Auror dressed as a criminal of the law and she was dressed as a galaxy rebel – they were being like polar opposite as the drawings on their wrists.

"That's definitely the last time I'm going in a haunted house," she mumbled with finality.

"Too bad," said Ron, grinning deviously. "Because we got a scareshow to go to."

"And I bet it's worse than this one," added Ginny. "No place to hide and we can go in separate ways if we want to."

Hermione went green, gave him a look of desperation for a second before it turned into defeat, and she muttered a sarcastic " _ha ha ha_ " under her breath. Ron and Ginny laughed at her discomfort while Harry merely snickered. Hugo then walked up to Hermione and kindly held her hand, giving her a sweet, encouraging smile.

"Don't worry, mum, I'll hold your hand so you won't get scared," he told her, giving her hand a squeeze; Harry adored the sight of a child comforting his mother like she should for him and it showed greatly how much they cared for each other, that their relationship had grown close again since Hermione had gone back home frequently.

"Thank you, sweetie," said Hermione. She gave him a kiss on the head, avoiding his dragon ears. "I appreciate it."

Lily tugged on Ginny's blazer. "Can we get going now, mummy?"

"Just waiting on your father to lead the way," Ginny said, glancing at Harry pointedly.

Harry nodded. "Sure, let's get going. If we waste any more time then we'll miss the fire show at midnight. I heard it's spectacular."

The group edged out of the area of the haunted barn and set off with the direction of the crowded people milling about and sauntered down the path of the busied streets. The walk wasn't too long, though Harry did not like it whenever a rude teenager would bump into them when they decided to walk through the bustling boardwalks, throwing rolls of toilet paper and silly strings at each other without a care of disturbing the other families around them, and he cursed at the restriction of using magic against a Muggle. The luminous, pale moon matched the adolescent light of the sun, very bright and high in harmony with the light banter around him. He kept Lily close to him so she wouldn't be tangled with the legs of the rushing people around, the bags of candy lying around, and he soon fell a few feet behind from the others with his daughter.

Eventually, Harry managed to break them away from the confines of the crowd and led her to the trail towards the scareshow; it was only a wooden bridge over rocky waters inside the woods area. It was a bit low, too close to the swamp green water, but Harry figured it was safer than being ten feet higher. He could even see what looked to be tide pools mixed with red coloring, filled with fake intestines and eyeballs, and if he looked closely, he could see a footprint in the mud. He told Lily to not lean over the edge so she wouldn't fall and because he suspected that is where the actors would pop out of to scare her.

The others were already there when he reached the entrance, along with Teddy, George, Angelina, and Arthur. They had decided to try the activities once they found the wizarding area. They were discussing on who should be paired with because the sign read that they could only could go two at a time since the bridge has a weight limit. Lily instantly decided to go with Teddy. George and Angelina were never going to be apart. Arthur stated he wanted to share his first experience of a haunted Muggle area with one of his children and Ron reluctantly volunteered, mainly because he wanted the opportunity in scaring Hugo. Ginny chose Hermione as her partner, much to Harry's surprise – he had not seen them be alone together and for his own wife to recommend the same woman she seems to have conflict with was a bit peculiar – and after sending a fugitive glance at his way, Ginny dragged Hermione with her through the entrance.

Harry and Hugo waited patiently (mostly Harry; Hugo was bouncing on his feet anxiously) until Teddy and Lily went in and then they finally started their journey through the supposedly daunting show. Harry had learned many times that when Hugo was full of energy he is adventurous; he was fearless as he leapt on the rails, perched precariously on the edges, and walking along the way with his arms stretched out to balance him out. He was glad that Hermione was not around or she might have screeched in his ear for 'putting Hugo in danger'.

"Be careful," he told the young redhead.

"I am," said Hugo as he leapt over the small gap between the railings and kept walking. Abruptly, a man dressed in what seems like a zombie covered in moss and mud hopped up next to Hugo and growled; Hugo shrieked and ungracefully tumbled off the railing. Harry, luckily, acted on his reflexes and caught his nephew in his arms.

"Told you to be careful," Harry grinned slyly as the actor went back in place beyond the bridge.

"You let me," said Hugo with a pout, crossing his arms. "Mum wouldn't have let me in the first place."

"I'm not your mother – I let you learn the hard way."

"Your way blows."

"Yes it does. Thank you."

After setting Hugo down, they went back to walking through the trail. Hugo seem to have gotten terrorized enough to move in a faster pace and tried to catch up with the others, almost tripping over his own feet a few times but never falling. Unfortunately, his custom-made tail of his dragon costume got caught between the rocks of the shallow water and tore a bit when he tried to wiggle it out. Harry helped him pull the tail out then used his wand to quickly repair the tear.

"Thanks, Uncle Harry," said Hugo, moving his tail around to test the newly fixed damage. "I can't wait to get my first wand so I can do spells like this!"

"It will be a nice feeling when you get your first wand," Harry retorted as he pocketed his wand.

"How does it feel?" Hugo asked excitedly. "Mum and dad said that when they got their first wand they felt an electricity in them and they knew it was there's. I never knew how you felt when you got yours."

"How I felt?" Harry paused to think back on the time he got his wand from Ollivander's and he smiled at the memory. "I felt warm, secure. Unlike the other wands, I was rather destructive but this one –" he brought out his wand again and twirled it between his fingers, " – felt the most natural to hold and I knew it was the one for me."

"That's how you know? If a wand is meant for you, that's how you know?" asked Hugo.

"No." Harry shook his head. "I didn't choose the wand because of the feel – I felt that way because the wand chose me."

"The wand chose you?" Hugo repeated incredulously. "A wand can't do that. It's an inanimate object that only shows signs of life when used."

"You would think being a wizard, you would know there's no such thing when there's magic," Harry chuckled while playfully ruffling his nephew's fiery hair. "You'll know what I mean when you get your first wand."

"It's still a long way," murmured Hugo, his shoulder slumping. "Two years in fact. Why do I have to wait so long?"

"Safety reasons," Harry answered casually. "When you get your first wand, you'll be taught how to be a proper wizard."

"But mum and dad are proper wizards," Hugo pointed out. "They can watch over me whenever I do magic. Knowing mum, she'll lock it up at night but dad would sneak it back to me."

Harry laughed at the comment because he knew that it was true of Hermione to do such a thing for Hugo's safety and that it would be typical of Ron to give Hugo in to his desires that Hermione restricted.

"I have no doubt that your parents know how to perform a well healing spell in case of emergencies but it's better to be in a school where there's a professional Healer with years of experience in case of more drastic moments," Harry explained.

"Like the time dad was throwing up slugs!" Hugo said.

Harry grimaced. "Yes, like that."

"Do you think I'll make it in the Quidditch team on my first year?" Hugo suddenly asked. "I've been practicing a lot with Lily and I think I've gotten really good. I want to be a Beater and a Chaser."

"I think you can do whatever you put your heart into," Harry replied. "I told the same thing to James and Albus before they started their first year. Right now, they're doing everything they love to do."

"I want to be a Beater with Lily," said Hugo, "like Uncle Fred and George were."

Harry smiled weakly and patted on Hugo's head. "If you really want it badly then you'll get it with the effort you put in it," he said in a slightly wavered voice; any mentioning of the lost twin still gave a painful twitch within his chest.

They continued through the walkway, getting a few surprises along the way from the special effects and live robotics, while Hugo talked about what he would do once he has his wand and what subjects he is planning to take in his third year. Sometimes Harry would playfully push Hugo in an entryway to the water, still gripping on the young wizard's sleeve as he did, and Hugo would nearly stumble into the muddy substance. In the end, Harry's punishment was the carry Hugo on his beck during the remains of the walk.

"Is everything okay with mum?" Hugo asked unexpectedly, cutting off his future plans in Hogwarts. "She seems sad lately."

Harry knitted his eyebrows together. "What do you mean by 'sad'?"

"She isn't crying or anything…she smiles and laughs and everything…but, it just…it feels fake," Hugo clarified carefully. "I don't know…But she and dad are closer but it's mostly when dad looked worried or angry."

Anguish brutally stabbed Harry's heart; he felt guilty that he was causing fissure between his best friends. He had no doubt that because of their kiss that Ron was angry at both of them for not only betraying him but Ginny too and despite that everything was getting better for Hermione and Ron, it doesn't change the fact that he, Harry, and Hermione betrayed his little sister. Ron and Hermione are probably arguing about him not telling Ginny yet, which led to Ron being enraged, followed by Hermione being sad, and ending it with Ron being worried about her. That is probably what Hugo meant when he described Hermione as 'sad'.

"I'm sure she's fine," he lied. "But I'll check on her to see if there's anything wrong."

Hugo embraced Harry from behind and said, "Thank you! Every time I try to talk to her I know she's lying to me! I'm worried about her!"

"I know, little tyke, I know."

They were passing through a couple of bushes covered in 'dead animals' and 'severed' human parts. As Harry carried Hugo north across the field, the shadows of the tree overhead could be seen under the moonlight, making the path seem somewhat hazy and a bit difficult to see through. Harry wished Ginny hadn't taken his wand away.

"Hey, Uncle Harry, there's something else I need to ask you," said Hugo.

"Fire away."

"A couple of nights ago, dad told me a story from your Hogwarts years as a bedtime story," Hugo responded, "and he said that you and him got some wicked tattoos in your sixth year."

Harry raised an amused brow. "Did he now?"

"Yes," Hugo nodded. "He said it was for you two to impress mum and Aunt Ginny. He said you got a Hippogriff across your bum and he got a Hungarian Horntail on his chest."

"Did he show you this tattoo?"

"No. He said he doesn't want mum to know he has it because he thinks it will influence me to get one too and he didn't want to risk getting hexed."

Harry snorted. "Typical of your father to say something like that."

"So is it true?" said Hugo, leaning forward over Harry's shoulder to glance at his face. "You two got tattoos?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "It was actually a rumor by one of our classmates. She thought I actually had a tattoo of a Hippogriff _across my chest_ but your aunt told her I had one of a Hungarian Horntail and, just for laughs, she said your father had one of a Pygmy Puff."

Harry felt Hugo shaking on his back as he roared in laughter and he couldn't help joining in.

"That's hilarious!" Hugo exclaimed carelessly, tossing his head back. "D-dad is such a liar! I'm so getting back at him for this!"

"Don't let him know I told you this," said Harry, grinning.

"I promise." Hugo used one hand to muffle out his giggles and tittering. "Th-this is g-gold!"

Harry reached the exit then and saw that the path led downward by a variety of large rocks that seem stable enough to climb onto, though, what made Harry worried was the wet surface. He tightened his hold on Hugo before he started to hop onto the rows of rocks without losing his balance and listening to Hugo cheer at each leap. Once he touched the flat ground, he dropped Hugo to the ground and they proceeded to walk to the exit where he can see the silhouette of the others waiting for them.

"Do you think I'd make a great Auror?" asked Hugo.

Harry's lips twitched. "I don't think your mother will like hearing you considering chasing Dark Arts as a career choice."

"Why? You do it."

"She's more against it than she lets on. She's trying to convince me to look for other options more suitable for me. I'm actually convinced in resigning too…"

Hugo stared at him incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," said Harry. Ever since the day Hermione had expressed her worries and fears towards his life being on the line daily, he was reconsidering on his choice of living. He questioned whether his idea of an Auror was the finest decision he made and he found the answer earlier this morning when he was making breakfast; the tranquility and simplicity of not thinking whether he has to be apprehensive on whether he will come back from a mission and go through a regular routine of a morning with ease was remarkable, marvelous. He hadn't felt that in peace since he was signed up for the Auror Training Program and started hunting for criminals when he was promoted as a Junior Auror.

"What will you do if you quit?" Hugo inquired.

"I don't know," Harry answered honestly as they got closer to the group. "But let's keep this between us, okay? It's not a solid decision yet."

Hugo nodded. "Okay."

The chattering of the group was heard getting louder as Harry and Hugo approached them. Their heads snapped up at the same time to see them close.

"There you two are!" George said in relief, waving his arm over his head. "Took you ages!"

"We were trying to get scared," said Harry. "It was more like a tour than a scareshow."

"Dad's having a scareshow of his own," said Ginny, jerking his head to one direction.

Indeed to her word, Mr. Weasley was having a pleasant time at the actors who would pop out to scare him, but it wasn't because of their performance. He would watch them in fascination as they jumped out in front of a family, making them squeal in delightful fright, and returning to his post behind a bush. He seems to be having the time of his life at the people's discomfort of the walkthrough and people were beginning to stare at him awkwardly.

"Splendid! Absolutely splendid!" he said sufficiently as he returned to the group. "It's amazing how they are able to look so disturbing with paint! And the way how people seem to enjoy getting scared too!"

"I'm sure it is, dad," sighed Ron before turning to his brother. "So where's this wizarding spot at?"

"It's at this hole in a wall by some shed in someone's backyard," George answered. "About forty minutes from here but I could apparate us there."

"I don't wanna walk," admitted Lily.

"Then it's settled!" George grinned. He extended his hand out, enclosed in a fist, and the kids were the first to eagerly grab onto it before the others followed. Hermione was the only one who seemed indecisive, glancing around the area thoroughly.

"We can't apparate here," she remarked. "There's too many people."

"They can't see us through the bush," Angelina replied. "By the time they hear us, we're gone."

That seem to convince Hermione, however, she still seemed to stay attentive of their surroundings as she placed her hand on top of the others. Harry was not sure if she noticed through her browsing that she had her hand on top of his; he tried to hide his blush by bowing his head and focusing on his shoes. He was glad that the night sky helped him be more discreet about it but he was still on edge when Ginny was beside him.

Once George was certain that everyone was together, Harry felt himself going through the familiar icy air tube as they disapparated.

* * *

Crowded and busy were the perfect way to describe the wizarding spot when they apparated in the middle of the constant river of sugar-dosed children and reluctant parents chasing after them. They all landed in the heart of the children area with many funhouses lighting up in multiple colors, ghosts dueling in the air and playing with the toddlers, along with several gaming sights of all kinds; shooting paint balloons to win the prize inside, a flying piñata that could be broken by a spell and the owner will lend a temporary wand for the kids to use, one where they have to hover a pumpkin in a hole in the ground without touching any of the objects in the way, and lastly, as Harry promised, an area where kids can shoot zombies.

Harry was surprised to see them all dressed in Muggle costumes but he figured they must have spent time during the attractions like they did before.

Hugo and Lily decided to raid the houses for candy and Teddy decided to join them so the adults could spend some time to relax in the border restricted of children. Mr. Weasley went along with Teddy, stating that he doesn't want an 'old man to stop the young people to enjoy their night' with a laugh before he disappeared in the crowd with the young wizards and witch.

Light breezes were already flowing by as the night grew later and their walk to the spot seemed shorter the faster they walked, wanting to be away from the cold of the evening. They spoke about their lives, their jobs, their children's stories in school, and made future plans for another gathering, especially for Christmas that now seemed to be right around the corner to them. They shared laughs, jokes, and infinite smiles – something that Harry missed when he was locked up in his bedroom.

People greeted them with enthusiasm; Harry didn't know who they were but he waves back and smiled politely at everyone. Some people would stop them to talk to Ron about doing a pre-order with him for his products and others would speak to Hermione to let her know of their support in her for her case against Rowle. Several others came across Ginny to shower her with compliments and praises in her article of the Quidditch World Cup semi-finals.

Ultimately, they reached in a building with a glowing light at the entrance that read _Wicked Spot_ and there were a few people outside, puffing smoke out of their pipes or sitting on the tables outside, casually talking and drinking. There were three bouncers, all in heavy trench coats, guarding the door. When the group moved up to the said bouncers, they presented their wands and their profession before they stepped aside and allowed them to enter the building. Harry learned the purpose behind their security check was in case they were an identity thief under Polyjuice Potion and he thought of having a meeting with Kingsley about that idea.

They all began to walk down a very long, dimly red lit corridor that echoed the sounds of their footsteps and talking voices. It was thin and lacked a bit of air as there were people who seem to have taken a break from what awaits them beyond the entryway at the end of the hall and were acting distastefully together against the walls. The closer they got to the bright entry, the vibration of the fast, booming music became louder and made Harry's head throb under the surrounding sound. They made their way through the throng of people blocking the entryway and before Harry knew it, he spotted himself stepping onto a wide-range dance floor with strobe lights flickering blindingly at every direction and many packs of people were dancing along with the upbeat music of the live band, _Devil's Snare_ , playing on the stage in the center of it all. There were five floors of bars and tables, and the wizards dancing erotically were dressed in Muggle costumes; Harry couldn't see the rest as the lights were too bright for him to see.

"Blimey," gasped Ron, gawking at the sight.

"Talk about living it up," said Angelina, also sharing the same look of shock as Ron. "Anybody getting the feeling that Arthur knew we were going to end up here?"

The others nodded and murmured in agreement. Harry glanced at Hermione from the corner of his eye and he can clearly see that she was uncomfortable in being in an environment full of shameless arousal and was probably wishing that she joined Mr. Weasley with the kids and Teddy in Trick-or-Treating or considering in catching up to them now. He knows Hermione was not the type to go to clubs or heavily sexually charged parties such as this one because she did not like the thought of being in a dark room full of alcohol-influenced men trying to pick her up and not knowing what could happy – it bothered her too much. She could let loose when she wants to but she mostly preferred the parties hosted between families.

"Oi! I'm going to go and look for some drinks," declared George loudly over the music. "You lot want your usual, yeah?"

"I'll take a Firewhiskey and a gen," Harry said the same time Hermione announced, "I'll have some elfwine" and Harry looked at her to see her glancing longingly at one of the unoccupied booths in the far corners of the building. He nudged her with his elbow and said, "Let's take a seat; my feet are swollen from walking so much."

"I couldn't agree more," she said gratefully and turned to her side. "Ron? You want to sit?"

Ron, however, looked preoccupied as he looked over the rolling crowd with interest in his eyes and Harry could have sworn he saw scarlet flicker across his eyes for a second. Then, wordlessly and unexpectedly, he walked forward into the dance floor and he disappeared within seconds, leaving the group befuddled. Everyone glanced at each other, hoping that the other would have the answer to Ron's unexplainable behavior, but they were left stumped and full of questions.

"I'm getting the drinks," said George before he went down the same direction as Ron and Harry can assume that he was not going for the beverages.

Harry motioned for the girls towards one of the unoccupied booths, making sure that neither of the lingering hands of the men came in contact with them, and he stood by the table as they took the seats on either side of the booth. Angelina sat between Hermione and Ginny but Harry could see there was no confliction between the brunette and redhead to have the small gap.

"How's your father doing, Angelina?" he asked the dark-skinned witch.

Two years after the war, while she was supporting George through his depression in losing Fred, had discovered that her Muggle father was suffering Leukemia and was still seeking treatment to this day. Angelina had requested several times to the Ministry to try to use a healing potion for her father but was declined every time. It made Harry feel bad for her – he was able to convince Kingsley to give him a chance to save Hermione's father with magic but Angelina couldn't have one to save her own. He wondered if Ron already did the favor for him because he hadn't heard any news on Hermione's father and questioned whether Ron left a little bit of the _Augementum Salutem_ for him to give to Angelina.

Angelina frowned. "He's well. He's still fighting it – he isn't getting better but he isn't getting worse. So I guess you could say it's both a good and bad thing."

Hermione patted Angelina's hand comfortingly and sent her a small reassuring smile that Angelina returned genuinely. Harry knew that Hermione was the best to understand Angelina's struggle right now.

"My best wishes to you," he said.

"Your father will get better, Angelina, he's a strong bloke," Ginny told her.

"I can only hope," Angelina retorted. "I'm planning to go back home this week. I already talked to George about it and he's coming along too. I sent a letter to the kids and they were fine spending Christmas in Cumbria."

"We won't get to see you for Christmas this year?" Ginny frowned. "Mum had a lot planned."

"I know but I rather be there with my father," Angelina said honestly. "My mum isn't getting any younger either and she needs a helping hand. I promise we'll send a Christmas card and pass by for a quick visit. There's always the Floo Network."

"I'll try breaking it to mum then," murmured Ginny, a little disappointed.

"How are you, Harry?" Angelina asked. "Are you going back to the office anytime soon?"

"I am – starting tomorrow," Harry responded happily, glad to know he won't be stuck in his house any longer. "I have to do a quick check-up with my Healer before I go back to the Ministry and turn in my health report that I'm stable enough to be back."

"Never knew someone could be so happy to be back in danger," teased Angelina. "You're an odd one sometimes, Potter."

"You try seeing the same four walls twenty-four-seven," he laughed, scratching the back of his head. He always liked talking to Angelina; she always brought a bit of light in thing, even in her own problems, that would remind him of his old Quidditch days back in Hogwarts.

"Try seeing the same four walls twenty-four-seven while pregnant – twice," Angelina grinned. Both Ginny and Hermione laughed pleasantly at her comeback.

"That's no fair," Harry pouted. "You can't use advantages like that against me."

"When you go through that pain then you can say that."

"Ouch. You witches are cruel."

The girls laughed yet again at Harry's despair.

"Really Harry, you put yourself on the spot for that one," Ginny giggled. "Even I couldn't defend you."

"That doesn't really make me feel any better," Harry stated dryly, which made the girls laugh once again. His ears tingled when he mostly caught Hermione's melodic giggles.

"Oh hey, Angelina, you used to have contact with Wallace Wilbert, right?" Ginny asked hopefully.

Harry raised a brow. Wallace Wilbert was a Beater for the Stonewall Stormers who retired a year after he rose to fame and held the best record for hitting fifty-nine perfect Bludgers in one season. Afterwards, he wasn't heard about much except for his spotted whereabouts and the news about his engagement.

"I used to go out with him after I graduated Hogwarts, yes," Angelina nodded. "Why ask?"

"Cuffe wants me to get a statement of his on the Quidditch World Cup this year and his opinion of the Puddlemere's going against France in the finals," Ginny explained. "If I can get that from him then the sales will go mad. Fans always go bonkers to see anything from an old athlete."

"I'm sure I can pull a few strings," Angelina mused. "I can't guarantee he has the same address as before but I could try and owl him."

"Cheers," Ginny sighed in relief.

"I have to go to the loo," said Angelina. "Will one of you come with me?"

"I'll go – I've been holding it since the scareshow anyway," Ginny chuckled as she slid out of the booth and patted out the wrinkles in her costume. She, after giving Harry a kind smile, reached up to kiss him quickly on the lips before she turned to Angelina after she got out of the booth, linked their arms together, and they walked away, whispering animatedly amongst themselves.

It wasn't until after he saw their silhouettes vanish within the crowd that Harry noticed the change of the music beats and the air of the dance floor reduced; a new song by the _Devil's Snare_ started up, the tempo positively easy and mellow, and people could be seen leaving to their booths while couples suffused over the floor. The lead vocalist sang the haunting ballad, sending shivers up and down on Harry's spine at how fervidly she poured her soul into the lyrics, almost like she was narrating a story of dangerous love worth the suffering for.

Harry looked at Hermione; she was focused on the crowd, wringing her fingers. She didn't look like she belonged here – the way he liked it from her. She can still go along with the rhythm of things yet she stays in her comfort zone to keep the rationality and sanity of things, and she would keep apart from the senseless actions of strangers. She wouldn't try to attract a crowd, wouldn't give an appearance that she could be wowed by a slick approach and a couple of sweet words to take her to the sack. She would tear them down with an interrogation, something that would kill their mood in pursuing her, and she would chase them away with a conversation of analysis.

Hermione was maddening in her own way yet it worked well in her nature; she was an interesting complication full of astonishing surprises and inconceivable way of thinking. That could have been the reasons why she was able to attracted and the admiration to the males in Hogwarts such as Viktor Krum and Cormac McLaggen desiring her to Terry Boot and Justin Finch-Fletchey idolizing the height of her intelligence. They were intrigued by the difference within her, some for actually significance while others to pass up the time, and that drove them to put effort in gaining her attention. They saw she wasn't easy – Harry wished he spotted it the same time as they did.

"Care to dance?" Harry asked as he offered his hand and smiled tentatively. She looked more awkward than before and he figured she could use a break from the being so stiff.

Hermione gave him a dubious look and laughed, " _You're_ asking for a dance?"

"No," Harry grinned, liking the teasing tone in her voice, "I'm asking for a dance _with you_."

"This is quite a surprise," Hermione replied while tentatively accepting his hand and standing from the booth. She was still looking at him the same. "May I ask what brought on this decision? You don't like to dance."

Harry just shrugged and guided her to the dance floor. She was right; he didn't like to dance. It wasn't because he didn't know how – he got dance lessons for his wedding – he didn't enjoy the attention that it brought, being forced in a spotlight that he tries many times to avoid, the one that gave him many problems he didn't want and solutions he needed. But this time he did want to dance – he wanted to dance with Hermione. He doubted anyone would recognize them with their costumes and he caught no sight of a familiar face of a newspaper reporter so he didn't have to worry about them being the topic of gossip.

Harry could hear a few whispers from the couples shuffling around them, hearing his name and Hermione's being mentioned once in a while, and he despised that his hope of not being detected was crushed shortly. He paid no attention to the many gazes turning towards them; he settled in putting his hand around Hermione's waist and the other holding her hand while she placed hers on his shoulder and stayed cautious to not give in to the urge of holding her closer to him. He kept his eyes on her face but she was looking at the ways where the hushed voices breaking through the softness of the song and his neck was heating up from her hand that was clutching a little.

He lowered his head next to her ear. "Relax, will you?" he whispered. "You're acting like a Death Eater is going to attack us any second."

"That's not something that should be joked about," she told him sternly before peering around again. "I don't like how everyone is looking at us."

"You get used to it," Harry said. "People stare at you so many times that you could barely feel them looking at you anymore."

"It's still unnerving."

"And how are you able to stand in the Wizengamot? You get intimidated by them just staring at you."

"Only if I'm the one who's in trouble. Aside from that, I can handle them."

Harry snorted and grinned. It seems lately he couldn't stop himself from smiling at how adorable she looked when she gives him that knowing smirk or hear her speak so highly. He generally pulled her closer as they moved along with the music and she didn't seem to mind or she didn't notice. Technically, they weren't really dancing – they were merely swaying to the sides without moving their feet so much. He knows despite the dance lessons, he wasn't coordinated enough for such elegant movements like the couple around them, and he figured Hermione doesn't feel like dancing like them either – she actually looks content being the way they are now.

"Are you ready to come back to the Ministry?" Hermione asked.

"Yes – I said I was earlier," he retorted.

"No you didn't," said Hermione. "You said you were starting tomorrow and needed to turn in your health report. Do you feel ready to come back?"

"I have to come back eventually," Harry deadpanned.

"You're making it sound like it's mandatory for you," Hermione sighed.

"Well, it is my job so technically it is mandatory."

"Don't act so cheeky – you know what I mean. If you don't feel ready to come back then don't. Even if your Healer says you're ready to be back on schedule, don't come back."

"I can't stay in the house any longer Hermione. I'm the Head Auror – I have to live up to my title as a leader. I have to go back on my investigation too. I'm way behind on my tracks. Merlin knows how far Yaxley and Jugson could be at this point or how far they've done with what they're planning. I still need to figure that out too."

Hermione glowered at him. "You and that investigation. When are you going to give up this personal vendetta?"

"Hermione, we talked about this," sighed Harry.

"Have you ever considered anything we talked about then?" Hermione inquired.

Harry frowned. _More than you know_.

Hermione, however, took his silence as a 'no' and her glare intensified. She started to pull away from him but he, with his old proficient Seeker skills, brought her back to him and the force made her stumble into his arms. He nearly tumble under her small weight but he managed to stay firm on his feet and he froze once he realize the change in their position; he clutched her to his chest by the wrists, holding one to his beating heart, and her face was close to his, her nose grazing softly against his. She was staring up at him in astonishment and bewilderment.

And her mouth was parted – he could see the shine of her glossless lips, almost like she wet them with her tongue. A tremble went through Harry at that thought. He gazed down at them, a temptation of wanting to know the taste of them, to see if she held that natural flavor of glazed cinnamon, and he unknowingly licked his own in anticipation. Him doing that seem to brought life back into Hermione as she straightened herself but she didn't move out of his arms.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's okay," he said quietly.

They slowly, cautiously, went back to their previous position and Hermione made sure, this time, that she avoided his eyes and glanced around the place, darting her eyes to the floors above, to the bar section, and to the band, but she never looked at his face. Her face was red enough that it could be mistaken as Ron's hair. She was too stiff too, not at all calm to sway fluidly with him. Harry didn't like that she suddenly became awkward and uncomfortable around him so he pulled her against him, ignoring her intake of breath, and pressed his cheek against her temple. He tried to not give attention to his racing heart.

"Why must you always be so difficult?" he asked into her hair. "Can't you just accept my decisions for once?"

"I'm being difficult because I don't want you hospitalized again?" Hermione huffed. "Sorry for caring."

"You know that's not what I meant," said Harry, taking a few deep breaths to keep himself calm. He never liked having arguments with Hermione. They were endless, in his opinion. "Can't I have a decent conversation with you? One without you worrying about me?"

"I can't help but worry about you, Harry," Hermione told him briskly. "You can't ask me not to when you're putting your life on the line every day."

"You can't just ask me to just give up on my job like that either," Harry shot back. "It also provides what my family has, you know. If I resign then how am I going to do that? Have you ever thought of that?"

"You can get another job easily," said Hermione. "You just limit yourself too much."

Harry heaves out another sigh and decided not to speak any further with her, knowing that she is least likely to end the discussion. Although, a part of him was considering her words. Was he really limiting himself in a world of possibilities? He had thought about quitting the life of an Auror yet the other part of him was making it difficult for him to make the choice of retiring happening. He was not sure if it is his old self – the one who Hermione says has a 'saving people' problem – that has him second guessing on giving up his career or if it was just him in general. He was perplexed; he wanted that life of fulfilled peace but he cannot find the strength in him to fight for it. Perhaps Hermione was right – he was limiting himself.

Subtly, Harry drew her closer until she was flushed against him and he felt a tremor run through her as her nose came to level of his neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent at the same time. She was not wearing any perfume (much to his surprise since Ron buys her supplies of them almost monthly for years) but her own natural smell was pleasant as he expected, sugary, and enticing. He felt as if he was floating, as they swayed gently to the lovely music drifting in their minds. He turned his head, his lips brushing over her ear while breathing quietly, enjoying the feel of her together with him and the luxury of sincerity that come with her presence.

"Hermione, you need to understand," he began, "I'm not a toddler anymore. I can make my own decisions. I _have_ to do this. I _need_ to do this."

"I know, I know," mumbled Hermione, her warm breath sweeping across his Adam's apple. "I know you're not a child anymore – you're far from it – I just wish you would make decisions that aren't related to what you're expected to live as. Such talents you possess and you're wasting them by chasing after a couple of irrelevant criminals."

"Need I remind you that you also work hard to keep these 'irrelevant criminals' behind bars?" Harry said teasingly.

" _Ha ha ha,_ " Hermione laughed sardonically. "I'm doing it because I want to. I wasn't expected to work in the Ministry. Before I had my reasons – now I have my purposes to stay."

"As well as I," Harry pointed out. "My main reason is my children and keeping them safe."

"Mine too."

"So you should understand."

"As well as should you."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You lost me."

"You say your main reason for working is your children, correct?" Hermione said. Harry nodded. "So you want to be there for them and give them everything you can get and give them a memorable childhood. You want to be the best father to them so how are you going to do that if you're out on missions and come back as a wreck?"

Harry didn't respond. He didn't think about it that way. He was more concern over the safety of his children's lives. He didn't think about how badly it would or did affect them to see him in a horrible state whenever he comes home.

"The longer you work as an Auror, the more difficult it will be for you to commit to the kids," Hermione continued. "The title of an Auror comes and goes, Harry, but the one of a good parent doesn't."

It was when Hermione said this that Harry was able to piece together everything; Hermione did not want him to have to go through what she went through with Rose. She believes his job will cause a rift between him and his children if his determination of the investigation transitions into his obsession and he will end up living in the hospital more than his own home where his beloved priorities are waiting for his return. For a moment, Harry saw it: the disappointed eyes, the unenthusiastic frowns, and impassive faces he would get from his kids at the mere sight of him. A constriction in his heart made him cringe.

"Sometimes I hate it when you're right," he mumbled. The sensation in his heart disappeared as she chuckled lowly.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she said. She then lays her head on his shoulder as she sighed quietly, "I just want you home."

"I want to be home too," he admitted. "Frankly, these past few weeks have been the best and the worst times for me. If you take away the nightmares – the flashbacks – it was actually a right good time for me. I got to spend time with Lily and got to see Teddy sooner than usual. It was the best."

"I'm sure they feel the same way," Hermione chimed in.

"But I need to finish what I started to be able to do that often," he added.

"I was expecting you to say that." Hermione groaned. She lifted her head from his shoulder. She held a strange glint in her eyes that Harry cannot decipher. He made a wave of tingles shudder through him. "I swear, you are by far the most laborious man I've ever had the trouble convincing otherwise. I didn't think someone like you could exist."

Harry grinned. There was a hint of humor in her tone when she said that and the stone expression she was wearing showed how serious she was. This was Hermione – tenacious, adamant, headstrong Hermione – doing what she does best when it comes to him, debating constantly against him until he comes with a solution perfect for both of them. She was showing him the con of her. And he loved it because it was part of her.

"I'll be home," he said. "I promise."

"Harry, if you make any more promises, you'll never have a day of rest as long as you live," Hermione snorted.

"At least I got the rest of my life to fulfil them," he stated, flashing her a gentle smile.

"Just try to make sure you have a life after everything," Hermione said, sounding desperate. The hand on his shoulder had moved to cup the side of his neck and her thumb was caressing his jawline. He hoped she doesn't feel his fast pulse.

The smile slipped away from his face. "I need to ask you something," he said sharply. "Aside from the obvious, why are you so against my job? Yours isn't so spectacular either."

Hermione ignored his tone and explained, "I'll admit I don't have the best of the best jobs out there. But at least I'm able to come home unscratched and together all around. Yours doesn't let you return from a mission in peace. You come home in remorse instead of relief when you see your family again and every time you do, I always see the same person – I don't like that. You don't have to be that person anymore. I mean, Harry, you're only thirty-seven and you look like you're in your sixties."

Harry lets out an unintentional laugh, the warm smile returning, still looking down at her. Hermione seem to enjoy seeing the glow back on his face as well as he saw her twitch a smile before quickly hardening her expression.

"I'm serious," she continued. "I mean, yes, the gray hair does make you seem more –"

"Dashing?"

" – _reputable_ ," she finished. "But if you take that out, you look like a bitter old man and you shouldn't, not now. I feel like I'm talking to a grandfather."

"What about you?" Harry inquired. "You don't so young either with all the workload you do."

Hermione shook her head. "This isn't about me, Harry, it's about you."

"Then can we not?" Harry snapped, gazing at her sharply.

Hermione didn't seem fazed by his choice of tone and said, "I'm just telling you, Harry, you're more than that. You don't let yourself grow as a person and it scares me a bit. There's more to you than meets the eye – you've proven that to me many times."

Harry was speechless. He could not find a way how to understand it but he felt that Hermione just confessed to him about something. With the look in her eyes, he sensed a warm tightness of elation in his chest and he thought he had flown off his feet as he started to feel light, like he usually does whenever he is on a broom. He thought he might fall under his own weight as his knees were beginning to feel weak and fragile but he kept himself together.

Hermione's words have struck him greatly than expected. The belief – the same one she used for S.P.E.W, for the best of the war to come, for _him_ – she held in her voice as she spoke to him was effective. It was like she shot a spell at him that helped him feel what she has been trying to tell him all this time, what she sees in him. It fused a light within his chest; Hermione believed he was more than a hunter of the Dark Arts. She believed that he is worth more than scars and bruises. She believed he could be more than what he let himself to be. She believed he was more than a title. She sees a world of possibilities waiting for him to take on and experience – she must have always.

Harry tightened his hold on her waist and swallowed deeply before saying, "Hermione, I've been thinking of –"

" _Ahem_."

Harry glanced over Hermione's head and he stiffened up at the person standing behind her. Hermione must have noticed his reaction and she looked over her shoulder only to go rigid like him.

"May I cut in?"

It was Ginny. She was staring at them strangely and was wearing an odd, tight smile. Seeing her standing there in her Little Red Riding Hood costume, Harry knew he was in for another interrogation or lecture. Most likely about rather close position with Hermione. It was no secret that although it seems that Hermione and Ginny have settled whatever differences they had aside, there was still some tension among the two, mainly whenever he was around.

"You don't need to ask, Ginny," said Hermione as she slipped away from Harry's arms. His hands itched to pull her back in his embrace. "He is your husband."

Ginny nodded, still smiling hard.

Harry tried to not grimace when Hermione said this. It didn't disgust him – far from it – but it feel wrong now to be called as _Ginny's husband_. It didn't seem right anymore to be called as her husband when he didn't feel like one to her. And then hearing it coming from Hermione made it sound immoral.

"Actually, I'm feel a bit parched," said Hermione, glancing at Harry. "I think I'll go and see what's taking George so long with the beverages."

"Angelina went looking for him," Ginny added. "You should go and help her."

"I should." Hermione turned to Harry and smiled weakly. "Thanks for the dance, Harry. It was lovely."

"My pleasure."

Hermione turned and walked through the slowly circling couples without another word or a glance to where he assumed where the bar is at. Harry watched after her, taking in the sway of her curls moving along the middle of her back with the rhythm of her hurried steps, until he blinked and he lost sight of her in a matter of seconds. His heart sunk at her absence then it sprung back to life when he felt Ginny walk into his arms and he quickly looked down at her. The smile she had was gone and was replaced with a deep frown.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," she commented flatly.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose."

"If you wanted to dance, you could have just asked," she said. "I would have done it."

"I didn't want to."

"But you danced with Hermione."

"I am aware of that."

"Did she ask you?"

"No – I asked her," sighed Harry. He knew this was going to happen. "Ginny, we were bored and we decided to dance."

"To a slow song," Ginny pointed out.

"Well, it's the only type of music I can dance to without attracting attention for my failed attempts to dancing like a normal person," Harry retorted. "You know I look like one of the merpeople wobbling ashore when I try to. Not a pretty sight, if you ask me."

The corners of Ginny's lips twitched in amusement. "I'm not gonna lie – you do dance like one."

Harry laughed and then he twirled her under his arm, her hair swishing after her, before he pulled her back to him and they resumed to the easy flow of practiced steps. He held her close like he did with Hermione while he looked over her head, glancing through the coupled pairs in hope of finding a familiar shade of curled brown, but he couldn't see through the dancers to the spot where he last saw the brunette witch.

"What were you two talking about?" Ginny asked quietly after a moment as he guided them around in a slow circle that was gentler than the tempo of the music revolving around them.

"Jobs and holidays," he answered immediately.

"That's a coincidence – I was talking to Angelina about it in the loo," Ginny said. "I was actually thinking that we should –"

Harry already knew the plans for the holidays like he knew the back of his hand. It was the main topic of their lives since they entered the autumn season, mainly because the kids are usually the ones bringing it up once in a while, and he knew it was rude to hardly pay attention to Ginny, to his wife, about the ideas for the holiday season but his focus was elsewhere. It wasn't on Hermione for the first time. There was a deep, horrific pull in the pit of his stomach whenever he looked over at where the bar is located. It was anticipating, expecting, and preparing him for something bad to occur soon – he just didn't know what.

Ginny was talking about getting Arthur to wear the Santa Claus outfit, as George had done it the year before, when Harry spotted Angelina and Hermione's figure flash through the crowd in a millisecond. He felt his senses thrum into life; they were pushing through the floor with urgency and that made Harry alert. He probably mistaken it but the clench in his stomach was telling him otherwise and he was being vigilant of any person who could seem suspicious.

Harry would force a look of interest towards Ginny when he could to let her know he was only half-listening about the plans of making Santa Claus climb down the chimney and personally give the kids their presents on Christmas day but he would turn his attention around the crowd. He couldn't push down that tightness in his stomach that's saying something horrid was going to happen – he was hoping to spot Hermione's curly mane again since it was the easiest to find and he prayed that where she is there is nothing terrible transpiring.

"Harry? Harry, are you listening?" Ginny interrupted when she saw that he wasn't even looking at her.

"Uh…" Harry noticed his voice cracked, and he blinked. "Yeah, go on."

Ginny eyed him skeptically. "What did I just say?"

"Um…" Harry was stuck; he was usually very good at this game. Even when he was hardly listening to her and she would ask him to repeat what she said, he could do it. But this time, he had to come to terms that he did not catch a single word she said.

Ginny scoffed. "I was saying that maybe it would be a good idea to get James and Albus those broomsticks they wanted in the summer. They were the Firebolt Supreme and the Moontrimmer, right? You have contact with the owner of the Flyte Inc. so maybe you could get him to give you a discount on them."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," said Harry absently, trying to look over the heads of the other people to glance at the bar section.

"What are you looking at?" Ginny asked.

It was as soon that she said this, a shriek and glasses shattering was heard shooting through the mellow of the dance floor, breaking the tranquil spell over the people. Harry's heart stopped once he recognized that scream – it was Hermione's. Mindlessly, Harry pulled away from Ginny's grasps and was moving forward towards where he heard it come from, following the trail of heads turning the same way, pushing past the intrigued couples as quickly as he could, desperate to reach Hermione. It was getting harder as people were starting to follow his lead, others blocking his path as they started to form a wall.

By the time he was close to where Hermione's scream came from, a huge crowd had impeded his view. He caught the briefest sounds of angered grunting, wood thudding, bones cracking, and Hermione's voice pleading at Ron to stop throughout the murmurs and exclaims of encouragement of the crowd in front of him. He cursed at the fact he forgot his wand in Hermione's beanie bag or he could have gotten through them with a simple spell. More noises came from the bar section and screams came forth.

" _Move!"_ Harry roared loudly, almost straining his throat, as he tore through the wall of spectators. The pounding in his chest was starting to hurt the harder it became. He pushed and shoved them out of his way, not caring if his strength caused them to fall to the floor or into each other as long as he was able to reach Hermione.

A crash was heard; it sounded like a table being flipped over, along with chairs and plates and glasses. Harry rapidly broke through the final line of people and stumbled into a sight that left him dazed in incredulity and wonderment.

The spot was a complete mess with glass pieces scattered over the floor, a table tipped against the bar table and chairs were thrown over, a couple of wine bottles were cracked apart, making the substance to have spilled with the broken glasses. There was a man on the floor, his head hung low and his hand holding his nose that was dribbling in blood, but Harry couldn't see his face as his dark brown curls were covering it. Against the bar table, where the barman was staring with shocked eyes, was George trying to maintain a struggling Ron in a restraining hold while Hermione was trying to speak him back into calamity and Angelina was pointing a wand at the man on the floor.

"What's going on here?" he asked in strong authority – the Auror in him was in full effect. It always comes to life during situations like this even if it involves his family.

Hermione looked at him and she seemed relieved at his appearance. Harry stepped closer to them, glancing cautiously at the man on the floor.

"Lower your wand, Angelina," he told her sternly. She looked at him for a second before she complied.

"I wasn't going to do anything to him," she said, "just make sure he doesn't get away."

Harry nodded, greatly appreciating her willing to help. He then turned to Hermione, who was staring worriedly at Ron, and he looked at their redheaded best friend to see him still trying to escape from his big brother's hold.

"Calm down!" ordered George.

"I'LL KILL HIM!" bellowed Ron uncontrollably, pushing against George's hold. "GERREMOFFME! GERREMOFFME!"

"Nobody is killing anybody," said Harry. He eyed expectedly at Hermione. "What happened?"

Hermione seemed disappointed. "Ron caught Rolf with another woman."

Harry was baffled, shaking his head. He did not know Rolf Scamander, Luna's husband, too well but he had met the man a couple of times whenever he would see Luna in the market or have a planned get-together for the children. For him to learn that the man who had snuck into the heart of a good friend of his and grew a family with her was caught seeing another woman was astonishing. His heart bled in disgrace for Luna. How long has her husband been keeping this secret? Why would he start an affair in the first place? How will Luna react when she finds out about it?

Then Harry felt a sharp pinch in his chest and he saw blood red.

"Harry, no!" said Hermione when he made a step over to the hunched man and she held him back by pushing against his shoulder, stumbling him back into the bar. "We can barely keep Ron together so we don't need to worry about you too. We can handle Rolf later but in the meantime we need to keep Ron in check – he's in a rampage."

She was right as usual. George was hardly keeping a nice hold on Ron as he was slowly slipping from him. Then, with a harsh shove against George's chest, Ron was able to escape and he was lunging forward towards Rolf. But Harry was quicker. He slammed into his best friend, forcing him onto the floor, before twisting his arms behind his back and pinning his head against the smooth, wooden floor.

"GERROFFOME!" Ron howled over his shoulder. "LET ME GO, HARRY!"

"Not until you calm down!"

"I'LL KILL HIM!"

"No you don't!"

Harry understood that Ron was at the boiling point of his rage. He had seen the ginger reach that point many times before when it came to Hermione being in pain or Ginny being insulted and disrespected. The red color painting Ron's skin was proof enough for Harry that his best friend was not consciously aware of his words or actions – his only intent now is to attack Rolf for cheating on Luna.

"Harry!" said Ginny's voice through the crowd. "Take Ron outside before security comes and takes him in!"

Harry grunted as he pulled Ron up from the floor, still gripping his arms behind his back, and started the battle in guiding the red-faced ginger towards the exit. But Ron's wiggling movements and vigorous hustling made it impossible for Harry to move an inch so he settled in maneuvering his restrains into a chokehold, the move instantly pausing Ron from his yelling as he tried to pry Harry's arms away from his neck.

And, only for a moment, Harry forgot what he was going to do. The world around him dissolved into a dark, black forest and the cheers of an entertained crowd turned into shouts of casted spells. He saw himself holding a wizard in the same chokehold he has Ron in, dodging any charms and curses that would come his way, as he strengthened the hold around the wizard's neck and tried to squeeze the air out of him, wanting him to fall limp in his arms. He could feel the wizard clawing at his arms, failing to pull them off his neck, and Harry was loving it – he was finally going to capture this ungrateful wizard who caused so much destruction to many innocent families.

"Harry! Harry stop! STOP – YOU'RE KILLING HIM!"

Suddenly, Harry felt himself being dragged away, the hold of his arms loosened, and he was falling hard on his back. A tension in his body snapped apart and he let out a gasp, feeling breathless by the pressure he felt escape him. He hadn't realized he was hardly breathing until he blinked and tried to exhale the air he didn't have his lungs.

Silence met his ears. An occasional cough here and there. Weights of gazes roamed over him. Harry looked up and he was met with an apprehensive George staring down at him in disbelief. Next to him, Angelina was slowly reaching for her wand in her pocket. Ginny was standing at the edge of the also shocked crowd. Lastly, Ron and Hermione; she was kneeling behind him, holding him tentatively by the shoulders while staring at Harry with wide eyes, and Ron was coughing roughly, practically wheezing, as he rubbed his neck. Harry looked closer at Ron's neck and noticed he had a deep red mark on where his windpipe is.

Harry understood what happened. He blacked out. He nearly choked Ron – he almost killed his best friend.

He looked at the others again as the guilt started to sink in. He flinched when Hermione and Ginny both tried to move closer to him.

"Harry –" began Hermione but Harry shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said before he disappeared with a loud crack.

* * *

He could feel them all staring at him as his legs took him down the same worn out path he had walked on many times before, aware that his brooding demeanor is bringing in the naked curiosity of his faraway watcher from within the glass windows. The streets were vacant, lacking of scurrying costumed children greedy for hard candy, houses bare of decorations, and the rise of the atmosphere had died many hours ago. Some late-night employees were seen walking down the streets after closing their stores, accidentally bumping into him when they cross paths, but they never stop to apologize as they were engrossed in keeping themselves shielded from the evening breeze.

When he reached the center of a street, he halted in a stop when he caught sight of a little church with stained-glass windows glowing faintly on his right. He must be on Church Lane. He trudged forward, curling his hands tightly into fists inside his pockets, his eyes settled staring ahead of him as he followed the way of past footsteps. He passed the small board that held the hours of Eucharist, rounded the corner of the building, and he ventured on through the rows of dusted tombstones that greeted him at sight, never giving a glance at any of the names he would pass by.

Soon, he stopped yet again once he reached a specific, valuable stone. The cantaloupe piece that is forever marked on the earth even when Death itself comes to meet him finally. A small smile, hallow as the streets he walked on, cracks through his impassive face as his eyes read over the two names that gave him pride and shame right now.

 **James Potter Lily Potter**

 **27 March, 1960 + 31 October, 1981**

 **30 January, 1960 + 31 October, 1981**

His vision blurred as a wall of tears formed in his eyes, the light of the dominating moon reflecting off of them and creating his shadow to stretch across the field, and his smile went dull. He could imagine how badly they're reaction about his behavior tonight – or any other time since September. They're probably ashamed of him. He had cheated, lied, betrayed, and hurt people he claimed to have such strong love for. He became something opposite to who he is not, who his parents have not expected him to turn into yet he went against their wishes and did just that. He had heard that a parent's love is the strongest strength there is but that their disappointment is also as great. He wouldn't be surprised if they're questioning which to feel towards him now.

" _Orchideous_ …" a voice whispered behind him. It was not too far from him – it sounded incredibly close behind him. It was smooth, gentle like fluttering snowflakes on a Christmas morning. It held many things speaking that one spell that had been used many times for this special tomb but he was only able to hear the comfort, the concern, the understanding, and the fear in it. Then, in a painfully slow motion, a wreath made out of several autumn flowers was conjured up at the base of the tombstone. It held such beautiful flowers; purple tibouchinas, peach David Auntin Roses, and white gordonias flowers embedded into the roots. The decorated wreath brought in the lost life of the tombstone.

Harry stood still as twigs and pebbles clashed under the feet lightly walking up to him until it stopped beside him and the heat of the body radiated off the frozen particles of his stone body. He fought back the jump as her delicate fingers slide into the crook of his elbow, gripping on his trench coat, and another hand landed on his forearm, the thumb rubbing him through the fabric. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hair tickling the side of his throat.

He released a breath. "Thank you," he choked out in a whisper, his voice thick and rough. He never moved his eyes from the wreath.

She nodded. "Your welcome."

Harry tilted his head to lie against hers and sighed deeply as his muscles fall into a lost relaxation under her touches on his arm, the gentle caressing unwinding the tendons there. He breathed in the aroma of honey mixed with cinnamon of her hair, loving the way how it made his mind fog up into incoherent thoughts, and he turned his head to bury his nose into the tresses. Like a drug dealer is to cocaine, he was obsessed with its essence.

She did not speak and neither did he. They just stood there in a silent pray for his late parents. Their shuddering breaths and the beat of their hearts in his ear are the only thing he hears.

"Happy Halloween, Hermione," he whispered softly, his tone pungent and sour.

The brunette witch shifted her head to give him a kiss on his shoulder and then she planted another on his cheek, brushing her soft pink lips over the rough stubble. She slides one hand from his elbow down on his arm and then slipped her fingers through his as she hid her face in the crook of his neck. His hand held hers loosely, a balmy touch through cool skin.

"Happy Halloween, Harry," she murmured. He closed his eyes at her weak voice strongly speaking.

"How'd you find me?" he asked

"We said we would come here tonight, remember?"

"Oh right," he mumbled. "I'm so –"

"Don't."

"And Ron, is he –"

"He's alright," she answered reluctantly. "He isn't mad at you, if that's what you're worried about. In fact, you doing that helped him snap out of his emotional rampage. He's just worried about you and Luna right now."

Harry grimaced. "He should be mad at me. I almost –"

"Don't!" said Hermione firmly. "That wasn't you."

"But it was me, Hermione, it…" Harry licked his lips. "I was out of it. I wasn't there anymore. I wasn't holding Ron, I – I was holding someone else. The same way I was holding Ron, I was holding them, but…I…I was trying to kill them…"

"Harry…"

"I was trying to kill Yaxley," he continued. "I remember – it was one of my earlier missions. I was close to finally getting him. He had disarmed me but I was close to tackling him. I had him and I wanted to kill him for everything he's done – I didn't care about arresting him anymore. And…and it's because of that…I…I almost killed Ron tonight!"

Abruptly, Harry's chest started to constrict as he lets out a strangled sob. The tears held in his eyes were running freely down on his face. The hand in his and on his arm disappeared only to feel two petite arms wrap around his torso, the same hand locked together on the small of his back. He buried his face in her neck without hesitation and started to let out a series of ragged, dry sobs. He sounded like he was gagging with the way how the sounds were forced out like they were stuck in his throat.

Hermione brought one hand up to his head, running her fingers through his hair as she hushed him lightly and placed a couple of kisses on his cheek. He shook his head against her neck.

"I almost _killed_ him, Hermione, I – I –"

Hermione hushed him again and he felt her head move.

"I did…I – I…I could _have_ …"

Once more, Hermione hushed him and he went through another round of enforced sobs. He could feel his chest going tight whenever he tried to heave in a decent amount of breath through his uncontrollable crying.

"But you didn't kill him, Harry," said Hermione softly into his ear. "You would never kill Ron. He's your best friend who you love dearly. You killing him is too impossible to come true."

"You don't understand!" Harry shouted angrily, loudly, while pulled his head up and away from her, revealing his face flushed and stained with tears. "I'm a mess!"

Hermione had taken a startled step back.

"I can't control myself in that way! I don't know what I'm doing or notice when I'm doing it! But I have no control over it! Every time I black out, I end up hurting someone! I hurt you that one time and now I almost killed Ron tonight! I'm a complete mess – I should be in St. Mungo's until they find something to cure me of this…this…this bloody disorder! It's got to stop!" Harry wiped his eyes with his sleeves. "What's worse is when it's happening, I'm loving it! I'm like some sort of sick plonker who loves hurting people! A sociopath is what they should call me!"

"Harry stop – _stop!_ " Hermione pulled him in her arms again as he started to shake violently. She held him closely whilst he drained his sorrow through his pained sobs and blamed tears, and somehow, someway, they ended up on their knees with Harry slumped against Hermione. She also managed to slip his glasses off and they were lying on the ground next to them. The torso of her costume was soaked in his shed tears but she doesn't seem to find that relevant now.

After a moment, Hermione whispered, "Harry…you are not a mess – you're far from a mess. You have your demons like everyone else has and you're just struggling to fight your way through them. But you can do it – I know you can. That's what makes you so strong, Harry. No matter how worse they come back, you hit the twice as hard."

Harry sniffed and shifted his head to the side so he could listen to her heartbeat better. He shuddered when she started to weave through his hair again and the other hand stroke his hunched back.

"No one blames you for this – they simply cannot," she kept on. "You don't deserve the blame for suffering through something you didn't ask for. That's why no one gets mad at you. Because when you're 'hurting' us, you really aren't. You see it that way but we don't. We see you trying hard to stay strong for us."

Hermione pulls back from Harry, making him lift his head up from her chest, and look deeply into her eyes. He was shocked to see her eyes were full of tears.

"I wish you could see what we all see in you," she croaked, sniffling. "I want you to see what it is that you show us every day. What we're _always_ seeing. A man who loves strongly and willing to go through hell to be with us. That alone speaks volumes about you, Harry. A few slip ups in your control isn't going to change that because we all know you try to maintain it every day. You mean more to us than you could ever imagine."

A creature stirs awake in Harry as he listens to her words, absorbing them into his heart. It roared and howled like a wolf would serenade its deep obsession to the moon at night. Hearing Hermione say these words to him so powerful and full of raw emotion made him feel crawled over in life – she was giving him life. That is when he knew he needed her much more than he thought. He needed her fire, her devotion, her passion, as he is lacking of them in himself and she is holding plethora of them for the both of them.

"Hermione," he sighed as he laid his head back on her chest, "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Hermione kissed his head and ran a gentle hand over his back, trailing down his spine. "Don't be."

"Hermione?"

"Hm?"

Harry embraced her around her waist. "Stay close to me?"

Hermione smiled against the side of his head and nodded slightly. Harry never knew something so simple could bring such a big comfort and elation.

"Always."

* * *

 **A:N:** Sorry for the delay. I just got a job so my time is going to be consumed a lot as of now. But don't worry, I'll never abandon this story! I shall finish it!

 **Please Review!**


	24. Returns and Exposures

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the locations and characters used in it, or the songs mentioned.

Hello everybody! I am sorry that I've been slow on updates but life has been hectic as usual! I've been taking extra shifts at my job to earn more money and I've been applying to college and studying for my license! It's a lot at the same time!

I will try to bring more chapters to you all! Thank you for being so patient with me! I love you all!

* * *

 _Can you keep a secret?_

 _Will you hold your hand among the flames?_

 _Honey, you're a shipwreck_

 _With your heart of stone_

 _Can I get a witness_

 _To the bruises and the wasted tears?_

 _You could dry a river_

 _With your heart of stone_

 _With your heart of stone_

\- Heart of Stone; Iko

* * *

 _"She doesn't need to do anything. What's most important is the fact that she's here and I can see her. All I have to do is just look at her. And I will feel I can face everything. I just hope… I just hope she can see me."_

\- Anonymous

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three: Returns and Exposures**

Harry did not know how long it has been since he came to the graveyard. It could have been hours – weeks – days – or months. He just knew that he hasn't moved an inch. He was content lying there on the ground, staring up at the stars and speaking mindlessly to the tombstone about anything that came to his mind until he fell unconscious and his head crashed onto something soft. When he woke up, his thoughts were hazy, still twisted up in blank dreams, and looking up a blurred face; it took him longer than it should to realize he was staring up at Hermione's from her lap and his glasses were off.

She seem to have noticed that he had awaken because he felt her move and then his vision was clear as day as she slipped his glasses on. He can see her now and he felt at ease at the sight of her cocoa brown eyes gazing down at him, her hair framing her face like glory ringlets, and endless sea of stars gave off a radiance that made her face seem more profound. He also realized she was wearing his fedora hat.

Harry could feel it was too late, a little bit past midnight, the day of the anniversary of his parent's death promptly ended, by how heavy his eyelids felt, struggling to maintain his vision hidden from the light streaking through the stained-glass windows of the church. It stung his eyes a bit. He rolled onto his side till the side of his head was lying on her thigh and the tip of his nose touched her stomach. The temples of his glasses were pressing against the sides of his head.

"We should get going soon," said Hermione softly. "They're probably wondering where we are and worried about you…"

"Just a few more minutes," Harry murmured. He crossed his arms and sniffed.

"But Harry, we need to pick up our kids," Hermione told him. "And then there's the feast –"

"Just a few more minutes," Harry repeated. "We'll be there."

Hermione sighed and Harry knew she resigned. He shifted on his back again then closed his eyes as he breathed evenly. His head was throbbing from the intense crying and his eye felt baggy from all the dried tears but he felt oddly content resting there on the leaf-covered ground and having Hermione's hands running through his wild hair. His brows furrowed then he opened his eyes and glanced up to see Hermione staring at the sky admiringly while her hands stroked the ends of his hair. He smiled at her, although she cannot see him, then he glanced to his side to look at his parent's carved names with solemn eyes but his feelings did not match them.

The scenery around them didn't seem so gloomy anymore. It seemed more like a sanctuary to him – a special place where he isn't showered with the pressure of the safety of the world, the guilt of hurting Ginny, from the nightmares of his past, and the fear of having nothing again. His parents weren't here, he knew that for a fact, but he felt closer to them by being next to their names which surprised him. Every time he visit them he never felt this way. The fact they were gone was all he knew. But this time, he felt he was being enveloped in a warming embrace of protection and care that he usually got from the Weasleys and the Grangers. Were they here?

He looked up at Hermione, hoping she would show signs that she was feel the same as he was. She was still playing with his hair and glancing around the area or at the sky like a curious child would when coming into the new world. Then Harry felt her vibrate as she started softly humming a melody, slow and in-tune, that he didn't recognize and as he continued to look at her, his heart starting to pound erratically whilst he saw delicate grace and surreal allure sparkling in the deep depths of her eyes as the lights of the church and the stars shone on her. He felt he was in the presence of some mysterious creature he never seen before. And that was Hermione's understated beauty; a rare glamor.

"What are you singing?" he asked.

Hermione stopped and looked down at him. "It's a song that I heard in a film once," she said. "It's quite beautiful too."

"Sounds like it is. Can I hear how it goes?"

"I don't have spectacular singing voice."

"I don't care," said Harry. "Sing."

Hermione smirked. "What if I don't want to?"

"Then I'd be disappointed," Harry grinned. "I'd be missing out a huge opportunity in hearing a beautiful song, according to you."

"You could look it up, Harry, it's not that hard," said Hermione wittily. "There's this nifty Muggle device called a computer – helps you find everything you need."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just sing the song, Hermione."

"Oh all right. Don't say I didn't warn you if your ears start to bleed," Hermione retorted snippily.

Harry held up a hand and said, "You have my word."

Hermione tilted her head back to not look at Harry, much to his dismay, and, as she looked up at the evening sky, he looked at the graceful arch of his neck, finding the supple skin there to be dangerously overwhelming of temptation. He could still picture it from the early morning when his lips were once pressed against that fragile neck in a languid kiss, the action in place making him feel like he was going through a heart attack, and he realized he never once heard Hermione speak to him about his actions nor has she fought against them. He pondered now what could have been going through her mind when he did that. But he put his thoughts on hold when he heard her clear her throat and soon heard her feeble voice sing softly;

 _If only, if only_

 _The woodpecker sighs_

 _The bark on the trees was as soft as the skies_

 _As the wolf waits below_

 _Hungry and lonely_

 _He cries to the moon_

 _If only, if only_

When she was done, she didn't dare to glance back down at Harry and he figured it was a good thing that she didn't because he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable with the amorous eyes he was staring at her with. She was right when she said she did not have a sensational voice as she went off-key and wavered a little at some notes but it didn't bother Harry one bit that she couldn't sing. She wasn't perfect – she wasn't meant to be. That is what makes her lovely.

"Thank you," he told her.

"Your welcome," she answered meekly. She finally looked down at him and he was falling deeper with those flushed cheeks of hers. "Rose used to sing it to Hugo."

Harry glanced up at her. "Have you spoken to Rose when you went to Hogwarts this morning?"

Something sweet passed through Hermione's eyes and the smile that appeared on her face left Harry blind by the shining happiness radiating from it.

"Yes, I did," she answered giddily. "She's doing well at school. She's passing her classes with flying colors – mostly Charms and Herbology. It doesn't hurt to admit that her rivalry with Malfoy's son is helping her get those high marks but I hope she doesn't get too competitive. We already see how that has Lily and Hugo."

Harry grinned. "So the visit went that well."

"More than," said Hermione, beaming strongly. "Lucia and I had to wait for Agnes and Buckbeak to come back from their annual flight and Rose was visiting Hagrid with the boys. Honestly, Harry, those two are a rampage. If you heard half of the stories they told me, you would be speechless. I think James and Fred are the famous prankers of the year. George would be proud. And poor Albus is the victim of some of their 'experiments'."

"I'm not surprised James is part of Fred's pranks – he always admired George's stories and his shop," Harry mused. "I wouldn't be surprised if he chooses to work as an intern there during the summer."

"I'm not sure if Ginny will approve of that," Hermione said. "She may be a fan of her brother's jokes and pranks, but I don't think she would want him to work in comedy. We used to talk about what we expect the kids to work in – she expects him to go for the Quidditch career."

"I expected the same," Harry nodded. "But after a while, seeing how he enjoys to make people laugh and is mischievous, I don't think so anymore. That's why I wouldn't be surprised if he decides to work for George and Ron."

"I can imagine."

"And what else happened with Rose?" Harry asked. He really wanted to know how far is the change between their relationship; he had lost a lot since his mission that he needed to catch up and he wanted to.

"She was surprised to see me there again," Hermione replied. "It was only less than a month since my last visit. She didn't seem to mind – last time was uncomfortable and odd."

"It would make sense with everything that happened."

"Yes." Hermione started to play with Harry's hair again but he thinks she doesn't know she's doing it because she had a faraway look in her eyes and an enchanted smile. "This time it was better. We talked so much about our lives and what was new. Even Hagrid and Lucia left us alone – I didn't realize we were talking so long until her break was over and she and the boys had to go back to lessons. What made me really happy was that she came back during lunch and she brought some food for me and we picked up where we left off."

Harry couldn't stop smiling at Hermione's delighted face and it became wider at the flickering hope he saw pass through her eyes. He could feel glee bubbling within her as she spoke about her time with her daughter, hear it warming up her voice with the way she spoke, the way how her eyes twinkle at the mentioning of her child, and the way how she seemed so calm unlike the many times before when she would be upset and heartbroken. It was a great improvement to how she handled herself through the years – down and reluctant to bright and elated – and he wasn't surprised that Hermione was managing to get through that thick wall of distrust of her daughter because she was trying to reach out to Rose – she always works hard to reach what she wants.

"Did you know she is an artist, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"No," said Harry. He was taken aback to hear about this hidden talent of his niece. She doesn't really seem like the type to be artistic to him. He saw her more of a mixed miniature version of Hermione and Ron.

"She is," said Hermione. "She is incredible. I found her old school books and she's drawn so many kinds of styles in them – they were beautiful. She has a picture of all of us in it. I could see she put a lot of heart into them with the details and how perfect the color blending works were too. I didn't know she could be passionate in something like that." She stopped stroking Harry's hair as she was caught in a trance and her voice was soft now as she spoke, "She even had one book full of drawings of me, only me. I remember some of those moments but I never recalled her being there. I never knew she watched me."

"She must have really missed her mum," murmured Harry. "When Lily was around five and six, she would draw pictures of me and her playing Quidditch or one of me dressed as a knight slaying the monsters under her bed."

Hermione snorted and giggled behind her hand. Harry looked at her with a feigned offensive expression, though he was smiling, and he tutted with a roll of his eyes.

"What? I think I would look smashing as a knight," he said.

"Oh I'm sure you would," tittered Hermione. "You wearing silver clothes and paddings would be quite a sight to see. Maybe you should bring out the Gryffindor sword while you're at it, and maybe even buy a plastic crown. It would make the look complete. You would be an excellent King Arthur."

Harry pouted. "Your sarcasm is surprisingly hurtful when it wants to be."

Hermione laughed even harder, the trembles of it vibrating against Harry's head, and he had to sit upright while giving her a glare.

"All right, all right, enough of that," he told her but she didn't once pause. "C'mon Hermione, it's not that funny. What kind of image you have in your head?"

"O-one that I-I will n-never forget!" she chortled.

"Then get it out of your head!"

"Okay, okay," she choked out, now breathing deeply and sputtering out a few short giggles, as she fanned herself. "Goodness! I don't think I've been out of breath like that for a while!"

"Must be nice," Harry mumbled sourly.

"Oh Harry, don't be so sensitive," Hermione said. "You would probably laugh for the same reasons if I dressed up like a Quidditch player."

 _Not really_ , Harry thought as the image of Hermione dressed up in the old Gryffindor Quidditch team uniform popped in his mind. He thinks she would look fantastic with her bushy hair tied back in a messy ponytail and her face flushed from the exertion of a match. If she were to play the sport, she would most likely take in the position of Chaser – being able to plan out plays, analyze the strengths and weakness points of the opposing team, using her brain continuingly, and take charge – or maybe a Keeper like Ron – calculating where the alternative team Chaser would throw the Quaffle or how fast she would have to move to block the goal – and seeing her wearing the safety pads and jersey was making Harry's face heat up.

"Maybe I'll dress up as a knight one day and make you think otherwise," he smirked.

Hermione raised an amused brow. "If you do that then I'll dress as a Quidditch player."

"Deal."

"Deal."

Harry laid back down on Hermione's lap and she went back to touching his hair. He closed his eyes at the feel, sighing pleasantly as the blanket of relaxation loomed over him with every stroke. He liked this. He liked this air of unrushed time. Which is odd since Hermione is the type to push the pace of things to get somewhere she needed to be or to finish a task. Yet she was not doing that with him right now. She may insist a few things and remind him of events or errands that needed to be completed but she never pulls him away from his time with his parents. She did not understand his emotions but she understood him.

"Do you really think Rose missed me?" asked Hermione.

"Lots," said Harry. "I don't see any other reason for her to draw you if she didn't."

"I can't wait for Christmas," Hermione suddenly stated. Harry caught her gentle eyes when she said this.

"I'm sure Rose can't either."

Hermione smiled. "I know you can't either. You must miss your boys."

"More than ever," Harry sighed. "I can only handle so much estrogen for so long. If Teddy hadn't come around, I think I might have gone mental. I don't think I would be able to handle the next few months if it weren't for his visit."

Hermione chuckled and said, "And you're supposed to be a resilient Auror."

"There's nothing scarier than a woman scorn."

"Amen."

Harry turned his head and looked at his parent's tombstone. The view still gives a suffocating squeeze in his chest as grief drowned him but being here with Hermione, talking to her and making snippets for laughter, he felt a little protected from the sadness that would threaten him every time. It is the thought of another life, an impossible dream, where they were alive and have met everyone he knew now that has him safe from spilling tears. He knew his parents would absolutely approve of Ron and Hermione instantly. His father, with his brief history of pranks, would have tried to steal Ron away with him and they would go through a whirlwind of nonstop hilarity while his mother would have adored Hermione to no end. He had heard how alike she is with Hermione from stories told by Sirius and Remus. He would go as far as to think his mother would call Hermione her twin. He could be exaggerating at the possibilities but he doesn't doubt of the amount of respect and admiration his parents would have felt if they ever encountered Hermione.

Harry could see it well; his mother, Lily, and Hermione both locked in a deep conversation of an intellectual subject with each other and debating out different points of their sides of the topic like two states discussing over a document while he, Ron, and his father, James, would be in the open field playing an intense competitive match of Quidditch with Sirius and Remus. During breaks, Harry would walk in the house for a glass of water and then stop to watch the women in his life caught in a talk so excessive that it would be too comical. He would let himself be captivated at the sight of two dominant women trying to overpower each other with their dynamic knowledge. It would have been a pleasant thing to have his past and his future come together into his present.

"They would have liked you," whispered Harry. "My mum and dad – I know they would have."

Hermione seems taken aback at his statement but she also looked touched by it and smiled down at him as she continued to weave her fingers through his hair. Harry reached up to take her hand in his, stopping her from playing with his hair, and absently, softly, caressed her knuckles with his thumb as he closed his eyes. He took in the lines and bumps of her knuckles, feeling the rough patches of where dried ink was once spotted, and the molded dip of where she holds her quill whilst he listened to her even breathing.

"I'm sure I would have liked them," said Hermione. "They were one of the most respected wizards in the world. It would have been nice to hear their stories – their adventures."

Harry snorted. "You would take it as a chance to learn about history instead."

"I like what I like," Hermione retorted with a shrug. "Sue me."

Harry laughed, rolling his eyes. He looked up at her and kept feeling her hand. "I mean it," he said. "They would have liked you – loved you even. I don't think they would have given you back to your parents if they knew you, mostly my mum."

"That's a bit exaggerating, Harry," said Hermione.

"I'm serious," Harry continued as though he hadn't heard her feeble protests. "If my mum met you then she would have stolen you away and we'd never see you again. She would probably try to see if you're better than her."

"That would be quite an experience," mused Hermione with an amused smirk that made Harry chuckle under his breath.

"Maybe you'll trade books while you're at it."

"No, I would never give my books to anyone," Hermione said flatly. "Sorry Harry, as much as admirable your mum is, but I will not give her any of my books. Some of them are first editions and are hard to get nowadays."

"What if I told you that my mum had Merlin's book?" Harry teased, grinning slyly. "And the first edition of – what was it called? – A…A Peramb – no, is it A Population – "

"A Perambulation of Kent: Conteining the Description, Hystorie, and Customes of that Shyre?" Hermione finished, her voice laced in astonishment. "That's impossible! It can't be the original one, can it? The one from 1596?"

"It could be. By the way, I'll pretend that I'm not surprised that you were able to say all of that in one breath just now," Harry added.

Hermione glared down at him. "You're pulling a mickey out of me, aren't you?"

"No, I'm serious," Harry laughed. "You be surprised what you can find in the family vault. All of my parent's belongings are in there. When I got to my mum's side of the vault, I thought I went in your cupboard with all the mountains of books and documents I found in there."

Hermione bit her lip and looked away; she has a calculating look on her face.

"You want the book," Harry stated.

"No!" Hermione said too quickly.

"I could lend it to you if you like," Harry insisted.

"No! No, no, Harry, no," Hermione retorted briskly. "That's your mother's – I can't take that."

"Technically, it's mine now. The vault is under my name so that means all the possessions in there also belong to me."

"No Harry. It's your mother's."

"I'm sure she won't mind letting you read it for pleasure. She would want you to. I bet she did it for the same reasons as well."

"I already said no," sighed Hermione. "Honestly."

Harry smirked. He knew she was fighting against the will to accept his proposal. It wasn't like her to decline the chance to read a book she is captivated by, especially an original copy. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at her, the smirk still in place, a twinkle of mischief sparkling in his emerald eyes as he watched her try not to look his way.

"I'll get you the book the next time I make a withdrawal at Gringotts," Harry announced casually. He needed to take out an amount of money to pay for his bills either way so he could visit his parent's vault in the meantime.

" _Harry!_ " Hermione groaned as Harry pushed himself onto his feet and held out his hand to her. She reluctantly accepted and he effortlessly hauled her up from the ground without a problem.

"C'mon, Hermione, I know you want it so why try to fight it?" inquired Harry. "And don't say it's because it's my mum's," he added when she opened her mouth.

Hermione huffed, "The binding – it could be fragile."

Harry laughed in disbelief at her. He recognized those were the same words he had used during their sixth year when Hermione tried to get him to let her see who once owned the Potions Class textbook he used. Hermione was grinning sheepishly, her shoulders shaking along with her giggles, and Harry smiled at her tenderly, finding this loose side of hers to be quite adorable and enthralling to look at.

"You got me," he told her.

"I know."

Harry laughed again. Hermione always did have a dry sense of humor. Then he looked down at the tombstone of his late parents. It had collected a bit of moss within the letters of their names and a couple of autumn leaves had gathered around it. He kneeled down to pick them off and to scrap the moss from their sacred names, careful to not touch the wreath that Hermione had respectively conjured up for him, before he stood up again. The graveyard seemed less cold now. There was no ounce of gloom nor did he feel like the color of gray. But he did not smile while staring – he never does when looking at the carved stone.

Beside him, Hermione stood faithfully by his side, not speaking a word to him or to the names of the fallen. She must be praying like she always does during their annual visits. He never bothered to question about it until now – was Hermione religious?

She had once told him, around four years ago, in one of their trips here that she believed they could hear whatever message is being sent to them from beyond the veil if tried hard enough and that left Harry baffled hearing it from her of all people. She was the kind of person to believe in the logical and explainable things, not in such beliefs that almost seem too rhetorical. Yet she does this anyway. Harry could assume that after everything she went through, she decided to have a much more open-mind of certain things because she still won't accept some of Luna's beliefs yet.

Harry didn't believe his parents could hear them. He didn't back then and he didn't now. When he was killed briefly by Voldemort, he didn't hear anyone's voices on the other side. Not Ron's. Not Ginny's. Not the Weasley's. Not even Hermione's. It helped him lean more to think that a person's prayer was a theory but he wasn't going to debate on Hermione with that.

They stood in silence for several minutes. Neither of them moved or made a sound aside from their steady breathing. Suddenly, Harry felt Hermione grab his hand, tangling their fingers, and he soon released a breath he didn't know he was holding as she tentatively rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb and laid her head against his shoulder. He heard her humming the same tune, the same song, again. He closed his eyes to focus on the sound, singing the lyrics in his head, finding it to be the perfect song for the moment. He felt like he was the wolf of the song; he was hungry to have his parents here with him like the war memorial would transform into the happy Potter family and he felt lonely without them not being here to hold him like the statue is.

Hermione stopped humming then soon Harry felt his shoulder become wet and realized he, too, had tears falling on his face as Hermione quietly cried into his shoulder. He wondered what is going through Hermione's head to make her break so easily next to him or what kind of prayer she sent to his parents to have broken her down without restraints. He did not know – he was just aware that whatever has her bawling has left him swimming in his own tears as well.

Harry wanted to leave now. All the feelings from his first visit nineteen years ago were coming back to home altogether and he doesn't think he has the energy to stand firm against them. Breathing in deeply, Harry slipped his hand out of Hermione's to wrap his arm around her shoulders, and she seem to have understand his actions as she slid her arm around his waist, never removing her head from his shoulder. Giving the tombstone one last glance, Harry and Hermione turned away from it and trudged down the path through the many rows of the deceased, holding each other tightly.

Harry felt a familiar warmth ignite in his chest as they passed the kissing gate and stepped away from the sight of the church. He usually gets it on this particular day that held that famous memory of his return. He glanced down at Hermione as they trudged down a street that was slowly going dark as owners shut down their business stores for the night and the cottage residents turned in for the night. Her eyes were red and puffy; she was no longer crying but she was letting a sniffle here and there. She didn't look sad yet she was not happy – she was impassive. He was more curious about what she was praying. She won't tell him if he asked her directly – she didn't the first few times he asked. He tightened his hold on her shoulder, pressing her closer to him.

"Thank you for coming," said Harry.

"It's no problem. You wanted me to come and I promised I would."

"But you could've stayed away tonight; after the mess with Ron today…at the club…you could've stayed with everyone else but you came after me."

"That's not something you need to thank me for, Harry. I told you Ron is fine and he isn't angry – he's more worried about how you're handling yourself right now. Everyone is. I have no doubt they're waiting for you at the Burrow right now."

"The food must be spoiled by now," mumbled Harry, keeping his eyes on his feet. "Mrs. Weasley, er, Molly worked hard on the feast and for all of this to happen tonight," Harry shook his head. "It's horrible."

"Don't hold that against you," Hermione responded. "This is Molly we're talking about. She must have the food under a spell that keeps it fresh and just as warm as it was on the stove."

She never lifted her head, Harry realized, as she spoke to him. If he breathed deeply he could catch that horribly addictive scent of hers that leaves him wild in daze but he figured he'd seem more like a creep if he did such a thing and that would be unlike him. He settled in giving the crown of her head a simple kiss and he almost immediately pulled back when she finally lifted her head to look up at him with a genuine smile.

"You're brilliant," he said. "Everything I said about my parents adoring you is true, you know, I meant every word back there."

Hermione looked pleasurably flustered even with her smile. "Cheers," she said softly. "That actually means a lot."

"I'm only saying what could be true," Harry retorted. "If my parents were here now – if things have gone the same way with them alive – they would have loved you immensely every time they see that you're the only one there with me. Because that's a fact, Hermione, you're always the only one next to me through everything. I can't remember a time that you walked away from me."

"I don't think I could have if I tried," Hermione responded in a gentle voice. She stopped walk, making Harry halt as well.

"You think so?"

"I know so," Hermione said. "Harry…if I ever walk away from you one day, it would be futile to do so. I would be coming back to you in the end. Not because I have to but because I would want to come back to you. So it doesn't matter what I do – I'd be next to you in the end."

How beautifully outstanding she looked to him right by saying this. The truth in her eyes was as frighteningly strong as the tone of her voice. Harry is left dazzled in her dedication, her devotion towards him, not sure if he is able to remain standing right as he could feel his knees suddenly go weak and pathetic under his own weight. The closeness between their gazes did not help him either. He could always see her emotions in her eyes from within miles apart from her but to have them in front of him, so clear and real, has him choking in his words. He knew she will always have faith in him even when things seem dreadful but he never once saw how powerful it was until now with him looking directly into her eyes.

At this moment, he wanted to confess to her; he wanted to tell her, be honest with her, that he is indeed in love with her. The way how everything is between them on this day – from the morning intimacy to the midnight comforting – gave him more reasons why he feels this magnetic pull towards her. He needed her in more ways than a friend and a sister. For years, he can safely say he always had this unexplainable, binding, emotional connection with Hermione as it was proven from the times she pushed her believes in him to help him continue and those moments when she seems to understand how he felt about something, how he was thinking about something, or how he was going to act towards something. She knew _him_. Not just as a best friend or as a brother but as a person in general; she knew about his history, his destiny, yet she treated him like another person in the same crowd as her.

No royal treatment. No special benefits. No escape from his consequences for his actions.

And he loved that about her. It is the way she treats him that he is able have an unwavering trust in her. He isn't sure if he has that with anyone else but her. He suppose that is why he has this drawing sensation towards her, why this link of their emotions and minds connect perfectly well. It was the love of a woman, a mother, who is the cause of his existence continuing, the affections of another who made him feel welcomed and accepted into society, and the desperation of the one least expected who helped him survive death. Three different mothers, all for their own purposes, are the reasons why he was always so willing to put his life in the hands of a woman without question. All them the reasons why he is so unhesitant of Hermione – she has the love of all three mothers, and of other kinds of women, in her for him.

Harry saw a strand of Hermione's hair caught at the corner of her mouth and, without thinking, used his thumb to brush it away. He didn't move his hand from her face; he gently caressed her cheek, which was boiling bright red under his touch, as he looked in her eyes that he noticed are now glazed over with a misty amber shade he never knew existed. He flickered his gaze down to her lips and he bit back a groan when he saw that she had her teeth gnawing on the bottom half. If only she knew what that does to him – she would probably use it against him at every chance she got.

He touched her bottom lip, gently pulling it out from under her teeth, seeing the light red markings, and he smoothed it over with his thumb. She never moved; she seemed to be more focused on his face instead of his actions. Gently, he tilted her head up by the chin while he lowered his down over hers until their noses were grazing. She seem to have fallen out of her trance from the touch as she was now staring at him with wide eyes and her lips were parted – she looked scared and he wasn't sure why.

"We should go," she whispered, her breath lingering over his lips.

And just like that, the moment was shattered by guilt and deflated passion. Hermione pulled away from him, growing an inch of distance between them, and wrapped herself in her arms like she was a cold kitten in winter. Harry was silent, the noiseless place too still that he can hear the pulse of his heart hammering in his ears and the inflation of his expanding lungs as he breathed deeply. How is he able to stay conscious right now?

"Yeah, we should," he said reluctantly. "We don't want to make them wait for us any longer."

"Right." Hermione nodded. She then took his hand and as soon as Harry blinked, he felt himself being dragged through an airtight flow and saw colors swirling around him rapidly as they disapparated.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in front of the safe haven of the Burrow beneath the late night and emerging stars. Voices and noises are heard coming from within the misshaped home that he can identify to be the laughter of the children and the booming voices of the adults. Their silhouettes are seen passing by the window but Harry could have easily mistaken it to be Mrs. Weasley's as she does tend to zoom pass the kitchen quicker than anyone he has ever seen. Clatters of plates and silverware are also heard so Harry can easily assume that they must have started the feast before him.

Hermione released his hand and started to walk forward but he stayed rooted on the spot. He stared at the house, looking through the window of the lit kitchen to see a glimpse of red hair that would pass by and listening to them being cheerful over their food. He felt uncomfortable being in their property now. He has no doubt that Mrs. Weasley was told about the events that happened in the club because it could not be avoid as his actions had left a mark on Ron's neck. A sign that he had been choked brutally – one that was proof that he was the one who choked Ron.

Hermione seem to have noticed his lack of movement; she had turned and walked back to him, a worried frown. Once she was close to him, she looked at his face then followed his gaze at the crooked house.

"It's a pretty amazing sight, isn't it?" she said, staring at all the light illuminating inside the house, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "The first time I saw the house, I won't lie, I was worried that it might have collapsed one of these days but then I was told it was held together by magic and saw everything inside enchanted – I never wanted to leave."

"Yeah…it gives you a vibe that makes you want to stay forever, right?" murmured Harry, running his hand through his hair whilst he kept admiring the house.

Hermione smiled. "I wouldn't mind. A lot of wonderful memories here."

Harry didn't respond. She was right – there are a lot of special memories here. From his first time in the Burrow to the summer they went to the Quidditch World Cup Finals to the day Albus took his first steps in the house. They stood there, contentedly, absorbing all the serene atmosphere of the simplicity of a family who appreciate the smallest things of life even if they have the biggest treasures off the world in their possession.

Hermione crossed her arms and turned to him slightly. "You know with those memories you have with them that nothing will change. They still love you, Harry."

"Right," came his simple answer.

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Okay." Harry sniffed. He realized how depressing he sounded and said, "I know what you're trying to say, Hermione, I really do. It's just…it's different this time. It's never felt quite like this before."

"What is it that you're feeling?" Hermione asked.

"A little troublesome? Uncomfortable," he sighed. "It's that…I know I've had my blackouts over the years and some were worse than others – I would feel guilty about them because I made you lot worry about him but…I never laid a hand on anyone until I came back. First I hurt you and now Ron. I'm worried that the next time I blackout I'll hurt one of my children or one of the Weasleys and I don't think I can live with hurting any more people. I still can't get over what I did to you and what I did to Ron was just adding more fuel to the fire. Right now –"

Harry was cut off by the sound of Hugo loudly asking George about Hermione's whereabouts. Harry looked at her, wondering if she was going to answer her son's call with her presence. But she seems to be more engrossed in listening to him spill out his inner turmoil and help him alleviate it. He was touched that she seems to find helping him empty his guilt more important at the moment right now.

When Hugo's loud voices lowered and Hermione was still standing in front of him, he continued as if he was never interrupted; "Right now, I don't think I can look at him in the eye. Ron and I had our rows but we never became physical – well, not enough to cause any _real_ harm to us."

Hermione seem to be struggling to force a smile on her face, not that it surprised Harry at all, and when he saw her frown deeply, he knew that he was right. Yet, he was surprised when she said: "You said it yourself, Harry – you and Ron had your rows, even physical ones, and yet you two are still best mates after all of that. I bet everything is already back to normal between you two."

Harry stared at her wondrously. How is she able to find some faith in something that looks lost? He is here bringing out points of a possible broken friendship and she is countering it with the hope he couldn't grasp on. How does she do that?

"Let's go inside," Hermione suggested. She took his hand and pulled him with her as she led him towards the house.

Harry tried to swallow the lump in his throat yet found it to be stuck the closer they got to the front door. The thought of everyone looking at him unwelcomingly and fearful is what has him hesitant to face them. He doesn't want to see the same people he grew up with to see him in a different, dark light. But then he felt Hermione's hand tighten its hold around him and saw her send an encouraging smile at him over her shoulder – he felt all the weight suddenly disappeared from inside him and he felt a wave of comfort wash over him.

When they entered the house, their first few steps made the floorboards creak and the sound had caused the voices of the Weasley family to stop whilst he and Hermione entered the kitchen. Hermione had let go of his hand before they reached the threshold. Eyes had turned to stare at them, all kinds of emotions sparkling inside them at the sight of Hermione then at Harry as they stood bravely before them. Harry wished Hermione hadn't let go of his hand – he felt like the odd one out again – but he understood she had to.

The smell of mash, freshly grilled sausages, fried beans, baked fish, and other kinds of foods battered him like a wrecking ball and his stomach gave a loud rumble that could be mistaken with a thunder. Containers of a variety of favored meals are seen cooling down on the counter and a wooden spoon was seen stirring in a pot that Harry can assume has a potato salad in it by the smell of it. At the table, everyone was hurdled together with plates filled with what seems like untouched meals and it made Harry wonder if they truly waited for him and Harry to return.

"Erm…hello," he said.

"Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley, running her hands over her stained apron as she approached him hastily. "Oh, Harry – oh, my dear – we couldn't find you anywhere –" She licked her fingers before she used them to fluff his hair out of his face. "We searched everywhere for you! – We only hoped you were gone so far!"

"I'm fine," said Harry, struggling to lean away from his mother-in-law's hands.

"You can't just disappear out of the blue like that," Mrs. Weasley continued. "We were planning to go as far as reporting you as a missing person – Oh, if Hermione hadn't sent her Patronus, we might have!" She turned to the brunette. "Thank you so much, dearie!"

"It's no problem, Molly," said Hermione with a bashful smile as she went to sit on the empty chair between Ron and Hugo; Harry tried to not seem dishearten to see he has no space to sit next to her.

"Daddy! You're back!" rejoiced Lily while thoughtlessly throwing herself out of her chair, across the room, and flung herself into Harry's awaiting arms. She squealed in delight as he swung her around.

Harry laughed. "Of course, honey. Who else is going to protect you from the monsters of the night?"

"Mummy said you had to do something important," Lily said.

"I was," Harry answered. "Had to make sure no one did anything to our house while we were gone. Did you collect enough candy to last for a lifetime?"

"You bet!" Lily grinned. "Oh! And I won some prizes too! Grandma Molly has them upstairs – I could go and get them now to show you!"

"Later," said Harry as he carried her back to the table. "We've got supper."

"But they're wicked!" Lily whined.

"Lily – later," said Ginny sternly before she rose up from her chair and reached up to give Harry a quick peck on the lips; Lily gagged and hid her face in Harry's shoulder. "We were worried sick about you."

"I know – sorry," Harry mumbled, glancing over at Hermione, as he placed Lily back in her chair. She was stacking up a spoonful of peas in a disgruntle Hugo Weasley's plate and ignoring his protests. She doesn't seem to have any attention to him anymore. He pretended to not be sadden by this and dropped in the chair next to Ginny.

"Just don't do that again," Ginny insisted. "Disapparating like that – you gave us a heart attack."

"Sorry," Harry repeated.

"Now, now, let's not give Harry an earful," said Mr. Weasley, who was sitting at the end of the table. "He's back and we can all stop worrying about his well-being. Now can we all eat supper like a family?"

"Before we start – Papa, you want that pumpkin juice?" asked Teddy, and it only took him a second after Harry said 'no' to drink it all. "Mph, by the way, welcome back!"

Harry laughed at his godson's antics, feeling a little lighter. Teddy loved pumpkin juice more than anything. Even more than he loved his job and Quidditch, and always made it very clear to him if pumpkin juice was a person, he would come second as Teddy's favorite.

After Mrs. Weasley passed him a served plate, the table soon moved on with a flurry of random conversations. The tension of Harry's disappearance disappeared with the shared laughter and they were all back to the routine of talking to each other easily like they normally do for years. After they got through their separate activities of the night (minus Harry and Hermione about their time at the graveyard) they had too much to say to each other. They acted as if they hadn't seen their loved ones for decades. They had fallen to the same pattern as the previous years, carrying a nostalgic and thrilling sensation.

The food cooked by Molly was tremendous as usual. Dinner rushed by quicker with the many school stories by the kids and the small trips George had taken for sealing deals in another country. Mr. Weasley complained about the new employer who had caused a mishap during his shift. Angelina was talking to Ginny about scheduling her an interview with Wallace Wilbert. Mrs. Weasley and Teddy were in a deep conversation of recipes he could take with him on his trip back to Romania. And lastly, Hermione and Ron were speaking in a hushed tone.

Harry was not sure what was it that they were secretly speaking about but he had a great hunch that they must be planning about their divorce and about the custody over the children. It was still unsettling to know that they were going to officially end their long-term marriage after everything but he can see the change that their decision brought on them – they were happier and calmer. He finds irony that the words Mr. Weasley used in their conversation earlier that night seem to fit well for his best friends as well; _I'd prefer that she is apart from you and be happy rather than together with you and miserable_. He could agree that he wanted the same for Ron and Hermione if it meant the best for them.

A few minutes later, Harry chose to tell the kids one of his horrid experiences of having his Aunt Petunia giving him a terrible haircut. He had them rolling on the ground with tears in their eyes and the others to have small spit-takes as he recalled about one of the many times his aunt had shaved him bald.

"I can't breathe!" gasped Teddy, tossing his head back. "You were bald!"

Harry looked around the table to see everyone also still laughing loudly at his story, their faces red as their hair, but the one he heard the most was the person in front of him; Hermione seem to be the loudest of the rest, clutching her chest with one hand and the other using the table for support. The tears in her eyes were rolling down her flushed cheeks. Next to her, Ron was also in the same state as her; he was leaning against his arms with his head hung low, his nose scrunched up, and was breathless. Harry watched them, laughing with them. For a second he felt that they went back to those days in the Gryffindor common room in a soft night with the gentle fire and a calm time as they laughed and laughed their energies away.

"Tell me, Harry, was your head shiny enough to be mistaken as a Snitch?" snorted George.

"Or big enough as a Quaffle?" added Angelina.

Another round of laughter bursts through the table; Mr. Weasley had to turn away to not spray anyone with a shot of pumpkin juice and Mrs. Weasley was fanning herself.

"Okay, I need to step out for some fresh air before you lot kill me," Teddy chuckled while standing from his chair and taking his dishes to the sink. The enchanted washcloth and soap went to work once he dumped in the sink and he walked out of the kitchen, laughing lowly under his breath.

"Unfortunately, we need to be getting going too," groaned George as he stood from his chair and stretched his arms over his head. "I need to wake up early. The after-Halloween sales are a lot to handle with those pranksters. It's a lot easier taking advantage of kids when they're dosed up with sugar."

"George Weasley, you better not sell those Ton-Tongue Toffees!" screeched Mrs. Weasley. "You don't need to get another lawsuit again."

George looked affronted. "I didn't get sued – I almost did!"

"Same thing!" Mrs. Weasley said. "I better not hear you sold one of those things or so help George Weasley, I'll –"

"Now, now, you two, it's late for your squabbles," said Mr. Weasley. He gave George a quick, firm hug and a friendly kiss on Angelina's cheek. "Be safe on the way home. And George – please do as your mother says. If you get another lawsuit, I can't guarantee you'll be lucky again."

"All right," George sighed reluctantly. He went over to give his mother a kiss on the cheek then went to Ginny and Hermione to give them one too. He playfully ruffled the kid's hair when he passed them and shared a one-arm hug with Ron before he approached Harry.

"Take care, mate," he said while clapping his back.

"You too," George retorted. "Try to come by often. I made a lot of new products that I want you to see."

"I'll try."

George pulled back as Angelina stepped closer to Harry and planted a quick kiss on his cheek then hugged him.

"Keep your hair intact, Harry," she said jokingly.

"You'll never let that go now, will you?"

"Should have thought twice then telling that story."

"I should have."

Ginny then appeared beside him. "C'mon, I'll walk you two out," she replied. "I still need to talk to you about the Wilbert interview, Ang."

"All right."

"Have a good night, dears," said Mrs. Weasley, "and George – remember what I said!" she called after her third eldest son's retreating back as he walked out of the kitchen with his wife, father, and sister, but he did not look back or answer.

"Grandma, can I show daddy the prizes now?" asked Lily innocently.

"You can show them to me later, sweetie," said Harry. "We're going to leave soon too."

Lily pouted but nodded silently whilst she slumped back down on her chair and looked at her peas as she moved her untouched peas with her fork. Hugo then stood up from his chair and yawned tiredly as he scratched his hair, making his strands stick out wildly as if he just got out of bed.

"I'm sleepy," he announced.

"We'll be leaving soon, little tyke," said Ron, however, he seem to be close to falling asleep too as his eyes drooped and he was stifling a yawn once in a while.

"Can I take a nap?" Hugo asked cutely.

"Me too," Lily added.

"Come with me, kids. I'll Transfigure you a bed," Mrs. Weasley said whilst she took her grandchildren's hands and started to lead them to the living room.

Then, as soon as she disappeared, Harry found he was alone in the same room as his best friends, and he realized he felt a little foreign to be with them again. He had spent moment together with them separately since they reached adulthood – sometimes he would spend a couple hours with Ron and the other with Hermione but he never got to have the two of them to himself. They were all busy with their careers and responsibilities towards their children that they could not find the time to spend a whole day for each other.

They all stood in silence, listening to the kids asking Mrs. Weasley for a bedtime story and the others outside having a joyous time creating jokes. Sometimes they would chuckle at the sounds the rest would make but then they would return to their quiet demeanor. It was a little awkward for Harry; he was in the same room as his best friend who knows he is in love with their female best friend who doesn't know about his feelings and is divorcing his best mate. The position he is in is a lot more suffocating than he is letting it show. A few more minutes passed by until Hermione cleared her throat and stood up.

"I'm going to go get Hugo's things," she said, glancing between the two nervously. Harry gave her a pointed look but she simply ignored him and walked out of the kitchen without another word. Harry glanced back at Ron, who seems to avoid his gaze as much as he could by glancing around the kitchen like it was brand new to him and fiddling with his thumbs.

"So," Harry began but he found he doesn't have any words to say.

"So," Ron echoed.

Harry decided to not beat around the bush. "Look, Ron, about earlier –"

"It's okay," Ron said quickly. "Forget about it."

"No," said Harry. "I could've –"

"Hey, I'm alive, aren't I?" Ron said. "Besides, it's better that you did that or I would have ended up killing that git myself. You sort of woke me up from my rampage."

Harry grinned slightly. "That's what Hermione said."

"I figured."

Harry pressed his lips in a thin line. "By any chance, did you tell Luna about Rolf?"

"I'm going to tell her tomorrow during lunch," Ron responded, "if not then before I clock in. Either way, I'm going to expose that barmy arsehole for cheating on her. Bloody muppet full of gormless excuses. A load of bollocks if you ask me."

"What did he say?"

"I don't know. George dragged me out of there before I had the chance to interrogate him. We looked for dad and then kids then we started looking for you after that. For all I know, that berk is probably in bed with that slag right now."

Harry frowned. "I still can't believe Rolf did this to her."

"Me neither, mate," Ron sighed. "Luna didn't mention anything about her and him having problems so I can't figure out why he would do such a thing to her." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "I'm worried about her. Who knows how long this affair has been going on. She clearly doesn't know a thing. And what about the kids? Did he even think about Lorcan and Lysander when he started doing this?"

"He obviously didn't, Ron."

"I know," Ron sighed. "I just…I can't imagine how things will turn out for them. I mean, I'm already under pressure with my own divorce with Hermione so…it's a lot."

Harry frowned. "I know. But at least you're doing the right thing, Ron. I think it's better to have her hear it from you than anyone else. In this case, you're the most she trusts right now and she will need you after all of this."

Ron's lips twitched. "You think so?"

"Definitely."

"Cheers, mate," said Ron while reaching across the table to shake Harry's hand quickly before he stood up and stretched. "Well, I should be getting home," he groaned. "I gotta wake up the same time as George."

"Same here – finally going back to work tomorrow."

"Just take it easy, will you? Don't want you to go all mental again."

Knowing he meant it well as a joke, Harry laughed, "I will."

He and Ron shared another shake between hands before the ginger man ducked out of the kitchen and disappeared through the threshold. Leaning back into his chair, Harry felt he just won a thousand life points as he gained the forgiveness from Ron he has been wishing for through the night. He didn't have a chance to tell Ron but he felt at ease and blown up in elation to see his best friend was once again standing loyally by his side. That is what he enjoyed about his friendship with the ginger; every come back shows how much he values his friendship with him. The more he misses it, the more he wants it.

Harry glanced over at the doorway of the kitchen when he heard a couple of footsteps coming his way. A few minutes later, a familiar fluff of curly, uncontrollable hair was seen entering the room, holding a stuffed plastic bag and her beanie bag.

"Hey," said Hermione, walking up to his side and dumping the bags on the table. "How did it go?"

"You're a wicked witch, you know that?" Harry smirked. "Leaving us like that."

"I can assure you I have no idea what you're talking about," said Hermione innocently as she dropped the bag of candy and her beanie bag on the table.

"Yes you do."

"No, I really don't. Care to explain to me what it is I've done?"

"Hermione, c'mon."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Can you blame me? Seeing you two act so distant and not seeing you talk to each other is insufferable. I wanted it to end as soon as it started."

"We can't be that bad," chucked Harry.

"You're right – you're worse," said Hermione. "Much, much more than a married couple not speaking under the same roof."

Harry grimaced. "When you put it like that…"

Hermione grinned in triumph.

"Thanks for that," said Harry. "You've been really helpful tonight."

"Don't worry about it, Harry, it's all good," said Hermione. "Now how about we head home? The kids are getting restless."

Harry nodded before he rose from his chair and followed Hermione out of the kitchen after she picked up the bags. They stood almost close to each other as they went to pick up Hugo from the living room then waited for Lily to return from the rooms. The conversation between them was simple and flowing, not once stopping in silence as they kept talking about any random stories they lived individually about their short travels, their days with their children, or with the Weasleys or the Grangers. When Lily finally came back, Harry quickly carried her outside with Hermione and Hugo as she explained the use of each prize she won.

"And this one changes into any shape I want," said Lily, holding up a round plastic that was now molding into a fairy, and holding her bag in her free hand. "And there's more; this one lights up like a star with magic – this one makes all kinds of sparks – these do like some sort of dueling show for me – oh, and this one –"

"You'll be hearing a lot of noises coming from her room more than ever," whispered Hermione to Harry. He sighed and nodded, grumbling under his breath.

Once they reached the others on the front yard, where they were having a few last minute chat with George and Angelina. They were laughing heartily with a few hunched over or snorting as Teddy and George told them what Harry assumes to be a joke and they were making plans for later free days separately while Lily kept trying out her new toys and Hugo slept peacefully in Hermione's arms.

"We'll see you lot for next supper then," said Ron, yawning widely. "Hugo seems to have a good idea with sleeping. See you at the shop tomorrow, George?"

"As always," said George. "We need to get a head start of testing the new products and getting them approved. If they're a success, we'll be busy for weeks with sales and orders."

"Right, because I look forward to that," grumbled Ron.

The others laughed at Ron's dismay, having used to him react the same way whenever they anticipate a new period of fast-pacing sales of their shop. Lily pouted sadly in Harry's arms, reaching an arm out to lightly poke Hermione on the shoulder and gaining her attention.

"Do you really have to go?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, we do, Lily Bear," said Hermione with a tight smile as she patted the young ginger on the head with her free hand. "Hugo is already out like a light and your Uncle Ron and I have work tomorrow. Not to mention we all have to see Teddy depart as well."

Lily whirled towards the turquoise hair boy. "You're really leaving? I thought it was a joke!"

Teddy smiled sadly. "Sorry leprechaun but it's true. I need to go back to Romania and help out your Uncle Charlie with the dragons. The bloke is getting to old for the job and he won't be capable enough to handle them on his own."

"Better hope Charlie doesn't hear you say that about him," chuckled Mr. Weasley.

"But – but! – " However, Lily ended up not being able to say anything and buried her face in Harry's shoulder as she let out a couple of dried sobs.

"Hey, c'mon now," cooed Teddy while comfortingly stroking the weeping child's back. "I won't be gone for long, leprechaun. I'll be back for Christmas and that isn't far away – only two months. Then we'll be baking biscuits – decorating the tree – chasing the gnomes to dress them as elves – making up plans to trap Santa – and everything else we do, I promise!"

Lily meekly glanced up at him with tearful eyes. "Even make hot chocolate?"

Teddy nodded. "With extra marshmallows."

"And make those ropes out of popcorn?"

"Definitely."

"And sing really bad at Christmas songs?"

"We'll be so bad that the neighbors will call the coppers on us."

"And put those stink pellets under Daddy's pillow?"

"Like I want to miss that!"

Harry blinked. "Wait, what stink –"

"I love you, Teddy!" declared Lily, promptly cutting off Harry, as she leapt out of her father's arms and flung herself in Teddy's awaiting arms, dropping her toys in the process. The young wizard laughed warmly as he embraced her fondly.

"Wait a minute you two," Harry said fiercely. "What stink pellets?"

"We'll see you at home, Papa!" Teddy answered quickly before clutching onto Lily tightly and then he disappeared in a swirling crack.

"What stink pellets!" Harry shouted after them.

Ron snorted as Hermione giggled behind her hand and Harry glanced at the two accusingly. The others were also laughing but he was more focused on the knowing smirks seen on his best friend's faces.

"Do you two know about that?" he demanded.

"I'm appalled that you would even think of me being a culprit behind of the puerile antics your godson and daughter do, Harry," said Hermione flatly.

"You do have the mind for it," Harry retorted. He peered at the snickering redhead. "Not to mention you have a husband who has the creativity for it so you probably know what they have planned. Merlin knows what waits for me around Christmas now."

"Just a bit of holiday humor," Ron grinned.

"Smashing," Harry murmured sarcastically.

Ginny clapped her hands. "Anyway, we have to get going, darling. You go back to work tomorrow and I have a scheduled interview early in the morning."

"Uh," Harry glanced quickly at Hermione, who he saw was gently rocking to the sides and humming the same tune he listened to at the graveyard in his ear as she rubbed small circles on his back. He didn't really want to leave just yet but he knew he didn't particularly have a choice at the manner; everyone was drained of energy, all ready for a night of longed slumber, and dreading for a fresh day of usual routine. He used his wand to summon all of Lily's fallen toys in his arms.

"Have a good night, kids," said Mr. Weasley as Harry and Ginny stood next to each other. "Stay out of trouble."

"We'll try," smirked Ginny.

"And Harry," Mr. Weasley said, giving the raven haired wizard a secretive look, "good luck with everything else."

Harry nodded, understanding the double meaning behind his words. _Good luck with telling Ginny_.

Then, as Ginny took his hand, his eyes quickly searched for Hermione again before he felt a harsh pull drag him through Disapparation and he was left with the glimpse of a small smile gracing her lips and solemn eyes meeting his.

* * *

The next morning, when he stepped back into the grounds of the Ministry for the first time with his official Head Auror band on his arm and dressed in his work robes, he was congratulated for his recovery and was treated with open arms of welcome. Some were staring at him in bewilderment, like they could not believe he dared to walk on the same floor as them or were not able to accept the fact that he was still allowed back to the government area after all the rumors about him being mentally unstable and emotionally uncontrollable. But Harry ignored them like he always does. He wasn't going to let them ruin his return.

The reaction of his officers upon his arrival was one of his favorite; they were cheering loudly and giving him kind claps on his back as he passed them, their accepting words making him smile confidently and also laugh at their dry comments on how lost they were without him guiding them through the investigations of the Death Eaters and Snatchers. Some of them were quick to speed in helping him catch up with the latest information they collected about their wanted criminals, which he was grateful for, and afterwards he was treated to a small celebration of his return with a store-bought cake and bottles of champagne.

After the welcoming, he spoke to his team about how far the investigation of Yaxley and Jugson had gotten during his absence, along with the forensic unit, but it seems that all traces of the criminals have disappeared from the explosion that day and the chemicals found in the scene were requested to be sent to the Head Healer of St Mungo's under court law of the Minister for Magic. Harry obviously was against the idea of giving crime evidence to the Head Healer, who he knows to be Draco Malfoy, the son of former Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, but when he was explained that he might have found a connection between the sickness occurring in Hogwarts, the one he heard was on the newspaper, and the poison found at the cabin in Montana.

Kennedy Mercer, who had been appointed to take over the division in the meantime, had taken the time to train three of the new recruits and had split the department into three units in hopes that will bring the investigation closer to an end. Kennedy didn't waste time in sending some officers to the field on a hunch. One of them were sent on an intelligence mission where they were to sneak into a village in the borders of Canada and find information about the suspect's last whereabouts within the area and the last people they have spoken to. It was an easy task for the new members as they brought in a couple of village residents for questioning, but Harry felt they needed to approve their stealth and entering methods and information gathering. He decided to label them the Rookie Three and have them scheduled for four more weeks of training.

Kennedy briefed him on their pace of the search while handing him files of the people who were in contact with the criminals and walking towards the room where separate witnesses are patiently waiting for their interrogation to start. After Kennedy's explanation, Harry went in to talk to the witnesses; apparently each of them were wizard shop who sell the same ingredients that Yaxley and Jugson have used to create that poison from Montana. It didn't make sense to Harry as to what was the hidden plot behind their buying the ingredients and it frustrated Harry to no end and it was only the first day back to work.

After sending the last witness home, Harry went back to his office to look through the statements and infer the cause behind the suspect's ploy. He made a diagram of all the places he had traveled Yaxley or Jugson were spotted in, the stores where people of different names bought bizarre objects, the statements of the witnesses, the reports of the chemicals found in the cabin in Montana, and also pieces of the article about Malfoy looking for the antidote for the strange illness occurring among the students at Hogwarts. A panic thought went through Harry as his sons came through his mind; he hadn't heard from them in a while. He decided to write a quick letter to them, asking them about their conditions and behavior, before he summoned an owl to take the letter.

Later on, he was found seeing on his chair, glancing at the diagram intently while endlessly writing on a piece of parchment. On his desk were stacks of paperwork, most of which he was done with, along with there also being a half-eaten cup of yogurt with a plastic spoon inside it, and a half-drank can of coffee soda. If he had been told years ago that he would have become an addict to a caffeine-induced beverage, he would have shrug it off nonchalantly but his job had proven to him that he would be drinking more than he thought he would. He could see now why Hermione is seen with a fresh can every morning – it was helpful to keep him awake at moments like this but it was also very bad for his health. He would need to speak to Hermione to see if he could persuade her to take an alternative in gaining morning energy.

Harry decided to take a break from his work and lets out an aggravated sigh while running his hands over his face, rubbing out the grogginess from his eyes as he whirled his chair to face his desk. He looked around at the mountain of papers surrounding him, wondering what step he should take, when his eyes wandered over the row of picture frames lined up in front of him. A tiny smile stretched on his face as he watched the moving photographs with nostalgic eyes. The first picture was one of him, Ron, and Hermione on their first year, the three of them smiling and laughing on one of the ledges of the castle. The second one was of a memorable moment, taken a couple of months after the war ended, on the day when Harry was fully treated well enough from his disorder and was reunited with everyone again; they were all crowded around him, beaming brightly, with him in the center of it all as he smiled tentatively. The third was of him and Ginny staring fondly at a baby Teddy Lupin. And the last one was of him, Hermione, and Ron garbed in elegant dress robes on the day when Angelina and George were wedded.

Taking the picture in his hand, he stared at the younger versions of him and his best friends smiling and joking among themselves while posing for the camera. His eyes were captured by the endearing understated beauty of the brunette witch, noticing for the first time after many years of staring at the same photo that the lavender one-strap chiffon dress made her skin glow captivatedly and seem smooth at sight. Then he peered at the picture of him and Ginny, the small smile vanishing instantly. The redhead was smiling widely, openly, despite being covered in a fine layer of sweat and her hair in disarray from the vigorous Quidditch practice that day, as she cooed at a bubbly baby Teddy. She had fallen in love with the idea of having a child after spending that day helping him take care of his godson.

Harry placed the picture of his best friends next to that one and leaned back in his chair as he stared at them, mainly at the two witches who were expressing their joy through their best features which is their smiles. These women – these two wonderful women who have given him something in his life to cherish and have done many big things for that he could never repay no matter how much he tries – are in a point where he could scar them with hurt in different ways he never intended to. With Ginny, he would cause a void in her heart when he tells her about him being unfaithful and then admitting that his feelings for her have evanesced. She would not only not trust him but she would hate him and he'd lose a close friend. Then there is Hermione; she would get hurt by hurting the first girl friend she's ever had, her first sister-in-law, and he would be the cause of it when he tells Ginny that Hermione is the girl he now has feelings for. He might actually cause Hermione to walk away from him for the first time and she might now come back like she said she would if she ever did.

He would lose his wife, his close friend, and his sister, his best friend, over his selfishness – and he doesn't think that is a pain he could ever recover from.

"Sickles for your thoughts, Auror Potter?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat and drew his wand at the sound of the unexpected voice. He then lowered his wand when he saw it was Hermione herself standing by the doorway, holding a paper bag in her arms, and watching in with an amused smile.

"What a surprise to see you here, Counselor Granger," said Harry while pocketing his wand and slumping back on his chair. "To what do I owe to this visit? I don't remember having an appointment with you today."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You don't have any appointments at all today, Harry," she said as she approached him at his desk and set the paper bag next to one of the paper towers, "you just came back from recovery."

"True but it's only been a couple of hours in the morning and I'm already up to date with what's been going on," Harry retorted. "Whatever was in that explosion in the mission might have connection with what's happening to the students in Hogwarts. Apparently, Malfoy found chemicals similar to it and wanted to take a couple of test runs on it. He has a couple of samples of them now."

"So Malfoy is technically working with us now?"

"Basically."

"Wow, I never thought I'd live to see the day," Hermione remarked.

"Me neither," Harry grinned as he ruffled his hair. He eyed the paper bag curiously. "What's with the bag?"

Hermione smiled. "It's your lunch."

Harry arched a brow. "Lunch? Hermione, it's not even time for lunch. My break starts," he paused to glance at the clock and his eyes widen in shock at the time shown, "er, started ten minutes ago."

"Exactly," retorted Hermione as she reached inside the crinkling paper bag. "I wasn't surprised to see you anywhere in the Atrium so I took the liberty in bringing you food. Here – chicken pot pie and treacle tart for you."

"Wow," awed Harry as he took the packets from Hermione, in disbelief that she was able to remember to order his favorite dessert dish. "Cheers."

"No problem," she said. "So how are you feeling? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Aside from the frustration of not figuring out what it is that Yaxley has up his sleeve, nothing," Harry sighed as he unwrapped his meal. "I don't see what's there motive. The only thing I've figured out is that they kill people and use their identity to buy the same ingredients because they have connections to buy them at a cheap price but that's all I ever got. I can't seem to figure out what it is that they're planning to do with them."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the explosion in Montana?" asked Hermione.

"I've been thinking about that and I don't think it's even part of their plan," Harry said. "I think it was just a decoy to keep me and the others from following their tracks. They were probably nearby when it happened. They set up a potion or a poison that would explode to the smallest of fires to burn anything that could have helped us figure them out. Mercer said that all they found were the remains of the chemicals that Malfoy has now."

"Clever," said Hermione. "They knew if they used their wands they could have been traced with whatever spell they used so they used explosions to burn their tracks. That's awfully ingenious of them as much as I hate to say it."

"Unfortunately," Harry sighed. He used one of the plastic forks to pop a piece of chicken pot pie in his mouth. "Mph! This is good. Thanks again, Hermione, I didn't realize how hungry I was until now."

Hermione waved off his comment and said, "I knew you'd be too buried in your work to even consider eating. I feel bad for Gerald – today was his turn to pick our lunch spot but he had to cut it short for a meeting he has with a client of his."

"Is the client awful or something?"

"No, it's her history behind the case that's a bit hard for him," said Hermione. "It's a little girl, only thirteen, who came out in the open to her parents and they didn't react so well. They're being charged with child abuse and attempt to second degree murder. It's sickening, really."

"They were willing to kill their child because she admitted she's lesbian? Why would they do something like that?" Harry rolled his eyes. "I mean, it's 2017 already. I know loads of people who are part of the LGBT community in both Muggle and wizard world so I don't see what's the big problem."

"There are still prejudice people out there, Harry, no matter what or how many gay laws are passed," said Hermione. Then she had a contemplating look in her eyes. "So it really doesn't bother you about same sex couples?"

"No," Harry replied, feeling a bit offended. "Why would I be?"

"Just asking," said Hermione. "I never really heard you talk about it before."

"It's not like I dedicate my whole life to it but that doesn't mean it bothers me either," Harry shrugged. "Compare to everything I've been through, I doubt having two wizards or witches snogging each other will be my biggest worries."

"Yeah," agreed Hermione; Harry noticed that she was giving him the most tender smile she has ever made and he blushed deeply knowing it was sent towards him. He busied himself in swallowing his lunch to avoid revealing his pink cheeks or flustered look.

"Did you eat anything?" he asked, still not looking up at her.

"Of course," Hermione said. She reached inside the bag and pulled out a container holding a baked dish and a can of coffee soda. She opened it and started to eat her meal.

"I think this is the first time we ate indoors."

Hermione shook her head. "Not precisely. Remember our first days working here?"

"Oh, that's right!" Harry said, laughing. "The days when we worked in small cubicles instead of big offices and worked in low-ranked tasks. We were worried that we'd come back late from eating outside and ate at the canteen here."

"And the food was horrible," giggled Hermione. "Then again we were only trainees at the time. We didn't know any better. And the atmosphere was so tense back then too. The air was so stiff, I could hardly breathe."

Harry laughed. He popped the remains of his chicken pot pie in his mouth before he went to his dessert, his mouth watering at the sight.

"Speaking of atmospheres," said Harry, "how are things in your department?"

Hermione sighed. "It's so suffocating in there, Harry. Everyone seems to be on edge about the opening hearing tomorrow, suggesting me different ways to start it and asking me if the evidence is sufficient enough. It seems they are a little skittish about it because we never had a problem with a case like this one before – we never had to dig so deep into someone's past to prove them guilty of their crimes. I know some of them are having second thoughts now that the date is near. But the majority of them are neutral, not picking my side or Olivia's. They mostly care the fact that they're getting paid at the end of the day…"

"And what about you?" said Harry, pursing his lips. "Do you feel ready about the case?"

"I'm not doubtful with my evidences," Hermione replied without hesitation. "But I have to stay cautious when it comes to Olivia – she's kind of like the Skeeter of the Magical Law Enforcement. She's willing to toss out dirt she has on people if it means getting her own way, as you saw that time of my hearing. She's a kind girl outside of work but inside the clock she's a ruthless person."

"I've noticed," Harry grumbled angrily. "I can't believe she would throw your kids in your face like that – and in front of the other counselors too."

"It's no secret of my relationship with the kids, Harry," Hermione sighed. "I think it was quite obvious how things were at home from the many nights I spent in the office. It's all over with. Besides, it shows how poor her character is in the end – Kingsley doesn't like her for that."

Harry chuckled; he had finished with his dessert and crumbled the foil together to toss them in the paper bag. Hermione had also finished her lunch. He glanced up at the clock and saw it was twelve-forty-one. Hermione had followed his gaze.

"I should get going and let you get back to work then," she said, rising up from her chair. "I have to pop in at S.P.E.W and see how are things with Agnes and her mother. We're testing them to make sure they're well enough to roam with the other Hippogriffs."

"Was it hard for Hagrid to let go of the little one?"

"He was bawling," said Hermione. "I gave him a permanent access in the area to visit them at least three times a week. He looked like a brand new half-giant after that."

Harry laughed loudly. He was cut shortly at the sound of a knock coming from his door and he glanced around Hermione to see Romilda peeking in, holding a thin file. He beckoned her to enter.

"Sorry to disturb you, Auror Potter," said Romilda, glancing distastefully at Hermione, "but a report came in from the Head Healer. His assistant said it's rather important you read it as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Ms. Vane," Harry said, taking the file. "Is that all?"

"Yes."

"You may leave then. Oh, but send a quick letter to the Head Healer telling him that I will contact him as soon as I find something. Also, whatever memos that come in, keep them filed unless they're related to the investigation."

"Yes sir," Romilda said with an obvious coy smile before she turned away and walked towards the door.

"That was forceful," commented Hermione once the door was heard clicked shut. "I will never understand why you hired her as your secretary in the first place. She's clearly still trying to catch your eye. Even when you're married, she dares to smile at you in such a way. No respect that woman has, I tell you."

"She may be a flirt but she's surprisingly organized and well-together," Harry said. He then smirked playfully. "My, my, Hermione, are you jealous of Ms. Vane? Does it bother you that much?"

"D-don't be absurd, I'm not jealous!" Hermione sputtered, however, her face was flushed brightly. "I was never fond of her, you know that. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to smother you another love potion again."

Harry chuckled. "Of course. I'm sure it has nothing to do with me relying on her to keep my things in check instead of you. I know how much you love to label my things by date, color, and length."

"No – well, it was – wait, no! – oh, honestly, Harry!"

Harry laughed, impressed that he was able to scatter Hermione's mind. He ducked the light punch she sent his way and grinned humorously at her.

"You can be such child when you want to be," she remarked.

"I aim to please."

Both of them spread into wide smiles, almost looking idiotic at the other. The laughter between them broke loud into the surface as they realized they were acting very unprofessional and yet they did not seem to care as they reveled in the elation of their presence in their familiar work area. It was a delightful burst of life for Harry after being locked in his house for so long and to be surrounded in an air of lightness and old jubilation. He was not surprised that Hermione was the one who is able to bring that into him through the midst of bustling stress and fast-paced routines because she must have known he needed it.

"Come here," Hermione suddenly said. "I can't help myself but I really need to hug you."

Harry groaned sardonically. "You always did have a knack for strangling people with hugs," he said lightly as he stood. "Can I ask why?"

"I just need to," she said before she wrapped her arms around the middle of his torso, clutching the back of his robes like Lily usually does when she doesn't want to pull away from him, and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her nose gliding against his collarbone gently. Harry settled in rubbing her back with one hand and the other lightly pressed against her waist.

"You really missed me that much?" he chuckled quietly, although, he was feeling a rush of emotions flow through him from her embrace. It felt different from the many he received from her; this was felt like he was back in an old place, somewhere he could recognize every curve and dip, like he was brought back in a recent time. He actually felt like he was at home in here, in this office, with him being tangled in Hermione's arms and her in his. It was a splendid flood to drown into.

"Yes," she murmured, her voice muffled in his robes. She tightened her grip even more and he found himself doing the same, encircling both arms around her petite frame; he can feel her shoulders shaking. "It was so lonely in here without you. I…missed you so much," she added.

Her voice cracked a little at the end and Harry thought he felt his heart do the same. He ran a hand through her hair, knowing she was overwhelmed with waves of rushing feelings at his return as much as he was but she was more expressive of them. Quite truthfully, he was actually pleased to see she has such an affect over his comeback because he could see his presence meant more than just a tool used to hunt and capture the wanted. It didn't hurt to say he felt lovely that she had longed to see his face in the Ministry as well.

Her shoulders stopped shaking and she took in a long inhale then let it out when she mumbled against him, "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to act so sentimental."

"Don't be sorry," he told her as she lifted her head and swiped under her eyes. He never removed his arms around her and she didn't seem to try to make him.

"I wanted to welcome you back properly but," she sighed but she was cut short at Harry shaking his head.

"Believe me, I feel welcomed." He played with the hem of her blouse, careful to not touch her skin beneath. "Although, I am a bit confused here. You're against my job but you're welcoming me back in it. I don't know what you want anymore."

Hermione chuckled. "I can see I am making it more complex. I am against your job - it's dangerous and frightening, not to mention barbaric – but I am glad to have you back. I am so used to seeing you around daily. I always felt like we were back in Hogwarts whenever we were together but then you're were gone and I felt a bit lonely. I mean I had Gerald and Julie but it wasn't the same without you here."

A rip of bliss snapped through Harry's heart like a whip. Here was a woman, an independent woman full of success and priorities, who made his presence feel needed to make her day seem brighter even when he was the less lightest person. She had missed him dearly. She wanted him here with her despite not wanting him to work in a profession so risky. He doesn't think he's ever met someone with unapologetic selfishness and unselfishness at the same time.

"I missed you too," he murmured somewhat shyly. Her reaction was not one he was expecting; she looked rather delighted to hear him say that but there was a twinge of remorse in her eyes, almost like she was in guilt for feeling such a way.

"Cheers," she said shakily. She took a few steps away from him, slipping her arms away from his torso, and he reluctantly dropped his to his sides. "I need to get going. We'll talk afterwards?"

"Definitely."

Hermione did not respond nor move. She stood there, merely a foot away from him, staring at him with unknown eyes he never knew she possessed. They were amber, clear of all the contrition she held a second ago. She seem to be taking him in, absorbing the sight of him like he was a new discovery to her, and he was not sure if he should feel flustered or awkward to know that she was giving him the same eyes he was sure he had given her many times before. Why would she look at him like that anyway?

"I'll see you soon," she said a moment later then she turned and walked out of the office before Harry could speak again.

Soon he was left along in his office, with only the sounds of his officers chatting animatedly beyond the closed door, and a pleasurable tightness in his chest that was caused by the impassive eyes of Hermione Granger.

* * *

He could feel them watching him. They always do whenever he is seen in the open wearing nothing but a sleeveless shirt and a pair of track shorts. He was used to it by now but he honestly wished they hadn't come so he could think properly. He was having struggles in doing so when he could hear them purposely whispering loud for him to hear, whistling suggestively to get him to look at their direction, and the dreamy sighs – he had to resist the urge to growl in irritation. He just wanted a little bit of peace of mind for himself.

"Look at him go!"

"That's his sixth time around!"

"He works so hard!"

"Look at those arms! So big and strong!"

Harry rolled his eyes at the mindless comments of the women who were boldly reckless enough to express their sexual desire. He will admit that his admirers are tamed compare to how they were during his beginning years as an Auror Junior. Various groups of women of all ages would come tumbling into room to watch Harry that it nearly packed the area and several other Senior Aurors had to escort them out in order to let the trainees work. Some do tend to sneak in after that but they would stay quiet and controlled.

"Chief!" someone shouted behind him.

Harry whirled around and kept jogging down the path backwards. He could see the figure of Kennedy Mercer marching up to him and the closer he got, the more he could see that the young Auror was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants. Behind him, about fifty yards away, he could see a couple of more Aurors jogging in their own pace across the track field, their clothes stuck to their body by their sweat, and some of them have slowed down into a fast walk.

"Hey Mercer," Harry said once the Auror was close and he turned to his front again.

"Brought up quite a crowd again, I see, sir," remarked Kennedy between heavy breaths, nodding his head towards where the crowded sidelines were located.

"Never fails," Harry said.

They proceeded to cross the track field. In the Ministry there is a room reserved for only Ministry members like himself who use it to do hard trainings or for scheduled conferences like the people from Hermione's department. It can be transformed into any area or location that is thought of – it reminded Harry a lot about the Room of Requirements. He found it to be useful but the downside was that anyone could enter if thought correctly and it was unfortunate for him that people, mainly women, tend to come watch him train.

"So I couldn't help but notice either that Ms. Vane gave you a file," said Kennedy. "Was it from St. Mungo's?"

"Yeah, it was a report from Malfoy about the chemicals found in the cabin," Harry answered. "He was able to piece together what they were for; a viral toxin potion that can attack our cells and muscles and cause them to deteriorate at a slow rate. It what was found inside his patients, the students, too. It seems that once our cells and muscles are completely deteriorated, our muscle system will also begin to fail and we'll be left paralyzed. Some could even die from it."

"And there's not an antidote to this?"

"Malfoy is working on it," Harry explained. "That's why he's been asking Kingsley for an increase in the hospital fundings so he could have a safer building to search for the cure. But Kingsley is adamant; he can't give a rise in funding so openly because then he'll have to give on in everyone else who asks for it. Truthfully, if Malfoy doesn't find an antidote as soon as possible, I'll try to convince Kingsley to give him the increase because he's on a deadline for the students; they only have ten to twelve weeks before the potion takes its full effect."

"Do you have any idea how those kids are getting the poison from?" Kennedy asked.

"It's not certain but I have a theory," Harry said. "The majority of students are the third years and up so I think it might be coming from someone in Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade? That's not possible sir. The stores there are always thoroughly searched in case they are holding contrabands."

"It's only a theory, Mercer, but it's also a high possible one to be true. Remember how we found out Carrow was under Polyjuice the entire time? It's likely that one of our criminals are under disguise as well."

"That's true."

"I was planning to have an interrogation with some of the students and later have a quick visit in Hogsmeade," said Harry.

"Should I have a group prepared?"

"No, just me."

They reached the starting point of the track and stepped off to the side where there were duffle bags on the lone metal bench. Inside Harry's duffle was a supply of water bottles underneath a set of fresh clothes and he handed one to Kennedy as they sat on the bench. They stayed there for a moment, watching the other Aurors sprinting down the track and ignoring the swooning women not too far from them until Kennedy shifted his weight.

"How are things, Chief?" he asked before taking a sip of his water.

"Pretty good," Harry murmured. "Just wondering how Lily is doing after yesterday. She's probably sick in bed right now. And Teddy leaves to Romania today."

"He's still working with dragons, that one?"

"It's his passion."

Kennedy and Harry have known each other for a long time. He was only a few years younger than Harry; they had gotten along naturally when they met, which was a rare occasion for Harry on the first impression, but it could also help the fact that he was also Kennedy's instructor when he was a recruit and helped him learn how to do various spells in a row. The young Auror also became a close friend to Teddy Lupin when he was thirteen and they shared common interests from sports to famous witches. He was not sure if they stay in contact but he was glad to know that they still ask of each other.

"How were your kids?" Harry asked. "Carly and John raid any houses dry of candy?"

"Nope," Kennedy grunted. "John outgrew the whole Trick-or-Treat phase – he only wanted to spend time with his chums – and Carly was more interested in flirting with the blokes in costumes. I had to keep my eye on her in most times or Merlin knows who she'd end up with. Half of those blokes were wearing a bandana over their faces."

Harry nodded. "Teenagers."

Kennedy's children are different from his own; Carly and John were both born as Squibs. It shocked Harry at first but when he met to two children, he grew fond on how close and protective they were of each other and how they don't seem to act different towards him despite knowing they were not born magical.

"Better get ready, Chief," Kennedy chuckled. "Yours are not far along to those years. How old are your children?"

"Lily is nine – Albus is eleven, currently in his first year now – and James is thirteen," Harry answered. "I can't imagine the damage they're doing at school. Hermione told me that James and his cousin Fred are mucking around with pranks and jokes. I can already see his reports at the end of term."

Kennedy smirked. "Poor you."

"Yes – poor me."

The two men fell in silent as they drank their water and looked around the area. Harry could have sworn the women ogling over him have inched closer to where he was sitting by how louder their whispers and sighs sounded but he kept his eyes on the Aurors to avoid giving them the satisfaction of giving them a glance. He then glanced at Kennedy as he closed his water bottle and placed it on the ground next to his foot.

Harry could not understand how Kennedy was able to live his life the way it is. It was not tragic but it was not healthy either. He and his wife, Mariah, had gotten pregnant at a really young age and have considered separating after they had John, sharing the custody of their children, and moving along with their lives because they were not happy with each other anymore but their parents would not allow them to do such a thing. By force, they wedded. But what the others don't know, aside from Harry, is that Kennedy and Mariah are in an open marriage; Mariah is currently in a relationship with a man from her work and Kennedy was going on a few dates with a woman he met in a friend's wedding.

Harry couldn't see how that was possible to do, especially when he has kids who he should be setting a good example to, but he could see that it seemed well enough for the both of them as they do not seem to have any arguments or such. He was not sure if their families knew about their secret but Harry figured perhaps they didn't since there hasn't been any words about problems from Kennedy's home.

"How are things with Ginny?" said Kennedy, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. "You two haven't seem like you've been together for a while."

"We're good," Harry replied curtly as he stood. He didn't have the urge to speak anymore; any mentions of Ginny destroys his mood with thoughts of guilt. "Don't take so long with training, Mercer, you're still on duty."

Kennedy seemed taken aback by his front departure as Harry flung the strap of his duffle over his shoulder and stomped away from him without a glance back.

"Y-yes sir!"

Harry didn't look back at the stuttering Auror as he made his way towards the exit. He just wanted to bury himself in his work.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon that Harry was found half-asleep on his desk, not wanting to move or get up from his comfortable position. It was the hours of his intense training to let out his stress and using his mind constantly to figure the criminal's plans that he was brought to an exhausted state. He had pulled off the fact that he has been busying himself in his work for hours instead of minutes so he could be able to focus more on his paperwork.

The office was dark except for the dim glow of the candlelight on the window sill behind him. He had decided to move it there so it wouldn't cause a rage of fire to the towers of paper on his desk. He was reading a few reports but then he ran out of ink and by the time it happened he was rather sluggish so he ended up in the position he is in now. His glasses were askew and his mouth was wide as he snored loudly. His head was laying on the latest report he had been reading, his face smudged with ink that hadn't tried on the parchment, and his arms limp on his sides, his fingers twitching once in a while.

Harry grunted in his sleep and moved his face slightly, causing more of the wet ink to paint more of his face and making his glasses turn more lopsided, yet he remained unconscious. Due to him moving his head, the report he had been working on can be read somewhat;

 _WITNESS INTERROGATION WARRANT: CASEY RUSH_

 _Hereby the approval of the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the members of the Department of Aurors has been given the permission to interrogate the victim in question in order to pro –_

But the rest of the parchment was obscured by a stain of ink that Harry had accidentally smudged over with his face. On the father clock, which was ticking loudly in the silence of the room, shows that it was a quarter to eleven, but even the sound of it could not seem to bring Harry out of his deep slumber. Not even the sound of a gentle knock heard coming from his closed door and the creak of the hinges had made him come back to consciousness nor did the sound of clacking heels had caused him to stir. He continued to snore roughly and twitch subconsciously every once in a while, not aware of the figure that was nearing him through the darkness.

It wasn't until the minute a hand landed on his shoulder that he was jolted awake as if he had been burned and he shot upright in his chair, the speed causing his glasses to fall, and the parchment stayed stuck to his face.

"Calm down, Harry, it's only me," whispered a voice, the hand never leaving his shoulder. He hastily reached for his glasses and fumbled to plucked them on his face again; he was greeted with the sight of a brown bushy hair circling a heart-shaped face and chocolate eyes staring at him in amusement as his vision became clear. It was Hermione, dressed in light cloths, with her robes shrug over her arm along with her purse, and smiling sweetly down at him.

"Hey," he said in a husky voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," Hermione retorted. "You should have left hours ago. You're two hours past your shift."

Harry groaned inwardly as he rubbed his face under his glasses, trying to wipe away all signs of sleep from his eyes. His hair was a complete mess, almost covering his eyes if he hadn't combed it back.

"How long have you been asleep?" Hermione asked.

Harry peered at the clock. "About an hour by now. Has everything been locked up already?"

"Nearly," said Hermione, "you're the only one left. The night guards will be here soon. What were you doing here so late?"

"Reports," he mumbled and Hermione nodded. He lets out a mournful groan when he saw that the warrant was stuck to his face and he then cringed after he peeled if off his cheek, seeing that it was a huge mess of ink.

"Was it important?"

"It was permission for me to talk to one of Malfoy's patients and it looks like I'll have to ask Kingsley for a new one," Harry answered while placing the parchment aside. "At least the warrant to investigate Hogsmeade is still visible."

Hermione blinked. "Why'd you have to investigate Hogsmeade?"

Harry explained to her about his theories of the chemical evidence and Draco's discovery of finding them in the poisoned students. He even told her about the effects of the poison to one who is exposed to it. When he finished, Hermione gasped.

"Do…do you think any of the kids might have…" she trailed off, not finding the strength to finish the sentence.

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I haven't gotten any letters from the school so I think they're safe. I sent an owl to the boys to ask them if they felt anything odd lately. I know some of the other kids sneak in some sweets for them on Hogsmeade weekends so it couldn't help to check to be sure."

"What are you expecting to find in Hogsmeade?"

"Contrabands…wanted criminals under Polyjuice…the usual…"

"You think Yaxley could be the one?"

"No," Harry said. "I think someone with connections to Yaxley could be the one. Whoever it is that is giving the students this poison is somehow getting them from Yaxley and wherever or whoever it is will lead me directly to him."

Hermione bit her lip. "Harry…if there is a wanted criminal in Hogsmeade…I hope you catch them. I won't be able to sleep knowing that a Death Eater or a Snatcher is anywhere near Hogwarts – near our kids."

Harry nodded. "I will. I don't want them anywhere near the kids more than you do."

Harry then stood up and went for his coat on the back of his chair. As he slipped it on, he watched Hermione glance around and go through the smaller stacks of paper with interest, a small smile painted on her face. The same broke out on his face just by seeing hers. She was being simple and natural yet she was hypnotizing him to beam.

"And what are you doing here so late?" he asked her as he started to put his belongings away in the drawer and stuffing papers in files.

"Finished having a meeting about the Rowle case," Hermione replied. "Just got back from it when I noticed the light in your office."

"Is everything okay?"

"Of course. We were just reviewing what we have and what we know. It was only last-minute preparations for tomorrow."

"As long as everything is certain."

"It is," Hermione said. She gripped his arm and gave it a tug. "Now come on, we need to head to your house and say goodbye to Teddy. He's leaving to Romania today, rmember?"

"Right, right," Harry murmured as he allowed her to drag him towards the exit. They stopped by the door so Harry could use his wand to extinguish the candle on the window before he locked his office and started to walk out of the department with Hermione.

"I find it incredible that you're able to catch up to a week's work in a day," Hermione commented as they walked to the empty lifts. Harry allowed her to enter first before he followed and pressed on the button for the main floor. They held on the hangings as the lift shot through the slots rapidly.

"D-dedication," Harry yawned.

"I'll say," Hermione murmured. She was glancing up at him worriedly. "Just don't overdo it so much, okay?"

Harry pursed his lips. "Hermione, I won't go through another breakdown. I've gone through the whole day without a problem."

"Please, Harry," Hermione sighed. "For once, just please do something without having a row with me. All I'm asking is for you to not go over your work as a precaution. You may have gone through the whole day without a hitch but those moments can come at random. I just don't want it to happen if I'm not there to get you through it."

Harry took in her words. It seems her side of their arguments seem to make more sense when she adds her explanation behind them and right now, hearing her speak of her purpose, made him feel a little idiotic and ungrateful for acting snippy with her. She was just being the same worrisome person she is known to be when it came to him or Ron. He should be used to it now. He should be more appreciative of her efforts like this. But it seems he never learns.

"Thank you," he said softly. Hermione just smiled and nodded.

The lift stopped; Harry held the gate open for Hermione and followed her off the cart then stayed in matching steps as they walked down the vacant atrium, the only sounds heard is their footsteps echoing through the quiet hallways. The silence between them was a comfortable one for Harry; it was the same one that is always filling between them throughout the years whenever they are alone, one that he would rather share it with her out of every important person in his life because it only came natural when it comes to Hermione. He was not able to explain how it is her presence that makes silences like this not seem boring to him. He was not sure if it is the content charm of her persona or if it was because she did not seem desperate to make every waking second seem worth to fill in with a joke and a playful banter.

When they reached one of the grates, Hermione laced their fingers together as they stepped inside together and he was left with a small breath as she quickly apparated them from the moment they were on the Apparation zone.

* * *

A second later, Harry and Hermione found themselves standing in the center of the living room that was surprisingly empty of occupants and decorations. He had expected them to have come across with the kids in a competitive game or Teddy and Ron having an enthusiastic conversation about sports and future products for the shop or Ginny, Teddy, Ron, and the kids gathered together playing on James' Xbox. But instead he was standing in the middle of a normal living room and his ears deaf of all sounds that are usually in his home.

"That's odd," Hermione murmured. Harry was glad to know he wasn't the only one thinking the same thing.

"Teddy! Lily!" he called out. "Anybody home?"

"Ron! Hugo!" Hermione shouted, releasing Harry's hand as she walked around the living room, looking behind the objects in hopes the kids would be seen hopping out to give her a scare.

Harry was about to join her when he heard footsteps coming into the room and a second later, Ginny, dressed in her pajamas, was seen standing at the doorway holding a rolled up edition of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Everyone is upstairs," she said flatly. "Teddy was waiting for you to say goodbye. Lily is asleep and Ron took Hugo home not too long ago."

"Oh, I guess I'll go and tell Teddy goodbye and be on my way then," said Hermione, eyeing at the ginger carefully and Harry could not blame her; Ginny was staring at them stonily. Hermione glanced at him for a second before she turned and disappeared through the doorway.

Harry stayed standing close by the fireplace, keeping his eyes on Ginny, as he listened to Hermione's footsteps ascend the staircase until they were muffled by the carpet on the second floor. After he was sure that he was beyond earshot, he stuffed his hands in the pocket of his coat while shuffling his feet across the floor, knowing he was caught in a trap for an argument.

"Gin…I'm sorry for coming home late," he said quickly. "I know I was supposed to have been home two hours ago so I can tell Teddy goodbye but I was catching up to all the work I missed out the past few weeks and I got caught up with them. I took time to go train a little bit to get rid of some stress. I guess the exertion got to me and I fell asleep."

Ginny still didn't respond to his apology. She just kept staring at him with those same stone eyes. Harry licked his chapped lips and ran a hand through his hair.

"I really am sorry," he said, taking a few steps to the doorway where his wife is standing. "I'll go tell Teddy goodbye now and kiss Lily goodnight now."

However, before he could walk through, Ginny moved to the side to block his path and he was soon seen facing a hard glare from her.

"I am mad about you coming late but I have more pressing manner to discuss with you, Harry Potter," she said; Harry knew he was deeper in trouble than ever because it is a rarity to have her speak his full name in a serious tone.

"O-oh," he stuttered lamely. "About what?"

Ginny unrolled the edition in her hand and held it open for him to read the headlines. In that brief moment, Harry was snapped back to the first night when Ginny had presented him with a newspaper edition that involved his name in a story full of deception and lies like it always does for years now.

"Can you explain this to me, Harry?" Ginny demanded. "You can't say this is rubbish because it looks pretty believable to me."

Harry swallowed. They have been through this before a month ago and it had been a lot easier to go through the situation before because he did not know what he felt for Hermione but now, as he stared at the headlines mocking him of his secrets, he felt himself become frozen and at unease because what he was reading was actually the truth, his truth, glaring back at him.

 **A LEGEND OF LIES: HARRY POTTER ADMITS!**

* * *

 **A:N:** I wonder which one of you can figure what movie that song Hermione sang is from.

 **Please Review!**


	25. Harry's Karma

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the character and locations used in it, or the songs mentioned.

Hello! I'm back!

I am sorry for the long, long wait! I've been so busy with work, taking so many ten hour shifts (closing shifts, mind you!) and other conflicts. I tried to finish this as fast as I could before I clocked in today. I hope you love it!

Enjoy!

* * *

 _Nothing goes as planned_

 _Everything will break_

 _People say goodbye_

 _In their own special way_

 _All that you rely on_

 _And all that you can fake_

 _Will leave you in the morning_

 _But find you in the day_

 _Oh, you're in my veins_

 _And I cannot get you out_

 _Oh, you're all I taste_

 _At night inside of my mouth_

 _Oh, you run away_

 _'Cause I am not what you found_

 _Oh, you're in my veins_

 _And I cannot get you out_

\- In My Veins; Andrew Belle

* * *

 _"That's the thing about pain. It demands to be felt."_

\- Augustus Waters

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four: Harry's Karma:**

 **Legend of Lies: Harry Potter Admits!**

By Rita Skeeter

 _Rumors about the legendary war hero, Harry Potter, have been speculating about endlessly ever since the day we spotted him looking rather cozy with his long-term friend and Muggle-born witch, Hermione Granger, a month ago. We had our suspicions that the two may have shared a brief affair behind the scenes of the lunch dates and the working together for the Death Trials but it has been recently confirmed by none other than Harry Potter himself that their close friendship has blossomed into a forbidden tryst!_

 _An unnamed source claimed to have overheard the worldwide known hearing speaking with his relatively close friend and pureblood, Ron Weasley, owner of the commonly known Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, about his feelings for the brunette beauty during their time at the semi-finals of the Quidditch World Cup and that not only one secret has been revealed that night; it seems that the romance between Granger and Weasley has died down as they are also known to be getting a divorce. Indeed, the biggest shock to ever happen among the famously known Golden Trio. Could it be the unfaithfulness of Potter and Granger to have caused such a dilemma among the Weasley clan?_

 _However, another surprise to add to this twisted story is that Ron Weasley had grown quite an infatuation with our very own Magizoologist, Luna Scamander (nee Lovegood). It was proven on the previous night in a club by many witnesses that he has gone through an emotional rampage over the dotty witch against her husband, Rolf Scamander, for reasons unknown. But perhaps this could have been the true cause of his divorce with Hermione Granger?_

 _It still does not change the fact of Harry Potter's confession of his growing feelings for the bright witch. According to our source, after the two wizards have gone through a physical row, did our beloved hero fessed up and admitted of his feelings. Our hearts break for the tragic hero as his feelings does not seem reacquainted by Granger. It seems her persuasive ways have gone to full effect. {ctd. page 2, column 2}_

Harry was not able to peel his eyes away from the article. He could not believe that all of the secrets he was preparing himself to tell Ginny was published to the public for all eyes to see and all minds to take in. Anybody he knew could be reading this right now; the Weasleys, his friends, and the children. They could all be trying to piece together on whether or not this information was a form of deceit for sales or a discovery among the mountains of dirt he had buried it in but he knew that they were beginning to think the latter of manner because, as Ginny said, it seemed believable. It was all the truth after all.

He could question one thing; who was the source that had gathered all of this information? It certainly wasn't Rita Skeeter herself because he did not see her anywhere in the Quidditch pitch and even if she was there she would have asked him directly. That was her ideal method in journalism – forward and upfront. He doesn't remember anybody being there at the same time as he was confessing to Ron about his feelings for Hermione and he to him about Luna. It was a mystery on who could have been the collector.

Harry looked up at Ginny. All that he was expected to see was shown on her face; betrayal and anger. He can see she is waiting for an explanation from him and he was hesitant because he never found the proper way to tell her the truth (this was by far anywhere near how he wanted to) but he needed to tell her now. It was the worst timing but it was still the right thing to do. He knew his feelings for her weren't strong and pure like he originally thought them to be for years and a part of him was going to be torn by the hurt he is going to put her through. He glanced at the paper then at Ginny one last time, feeling regret for her, but he couldn't hide from her anymore.

"Let's wait until Teddy and Hermione are gone then we'll talk about this," he said.

Ginny shoved the paper into his chest, causing him to nearly tumble back a step, and she turned away from him to walk out of his sight. But before she went through the doorway, she told him over his shoulder, "Hermione won't be leaving. I want to talk to the _both_ of you," and then she was gone before Harry could utter a protest.

Harry sighed and looked down at the paper in his hands. There was a heart shaped picture of him looking at Hermione while she was keeping an eye on Lily and Hugo to not fall over the railing and then smile at her when she went along with the cheer of the crowd. He remembered that moment at the semi-finals. A sudden flare of rage sparks up in Harry; he crushed the paper together and tossed it into the fireplace before he used his wand to send it bursting into flames. He watched as the fire consumed it, turning it into ashes around the picture until it was blackened.

Harry wanted to know who had the nerve to expose his private life to the public. He wanted to arrest them with any excusable reason possible. He, although knowing that his decision telling Ginny would have ended the same, did not want the situation to get worse like this but now that it is being read by millions to billions of people around the world he couldn't find any other ways to lessen the blow. He doesn't even want to think about the attention Ginny must have gotten at her work when the article was published.

Leaving the paper to burn, Harry left the living room and went upstairs with a heavy heart. As he reached the second floor, he could hear watery laughter coming from James' old room along with the sound of Hermione's cracked voice talking. He walked closer to the door and when he peeked inside he was met with a lovely sight of his godson trapped in his best friend's suffocating embrace, rubbing her back comfortingly, with tears and sniffling as they rocked gently to the sides. He could hear Hermione talking softly in his ear, barely audible, how Teddy has a safe travel back to Romania, that he should send them more posts about his adventures with Charlie, to come home whenever he is feeling a little homesick, and to always remember his manners because a gentlemen who respects get respected.

Harry had to laugh at this; it amazes him that he is able to when he is feeling empty inside. The sound had caused both Hermione and Teddy to separate and look at him. Harry noticed that Hermione also had tears in her eyes which did not really surprise him – she was always sentimental every time Teddy left.

"You got everything set?" Harry asked, referring to the small opened suitcase next on the bed.

"Toothbrush and fresh underwear," Teddy joked but the lightness didn't reach his eyes. He walked up to Harry to catch him in a tight embrace and patting him on his back as Harry returned just as strongly. It was always hard for Harry to let go of Teddy to Romania; he was the first child he had ever taken care of and had made him forget to see him as a godson and love him like he was his son so when he first let him go to Hogwarts and later in life to work with Charlie in Romania he was devastated. He will always be reminded of the feelings when Teddy's visits end.

"You take care of yourself with those dragons, you hear," Harry said as they released each other and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. "You got your wand?"

"Check."

"You have all your clothes? You know James hates finding people's things in his room."

"Check."

"Your wallet?"

"Check."

"Spare wallet?"

"Check!" Teddy laughed. "C'mon Papa, I think I'm already old enough to remember the little things."

"Just making sure," Harry grinned. "What's left to pack?"

"A couple of spare books and a few souvenirs," Teddy told him. He went over to James' desk to pick up the small journals there and carried them back into the suitcase. Hermione had gathered the folded clothes to give them to the turquoise-haired wizard for him to shove in the suitcase before he flipped it closed and zipped it up.

Hermione took out her wand. " _Reducio_." The suitcase shrunk down into a palm-size and Teddy pocketed it.

"Promise me you'll wash behind your ears, Edward," Hermione told him. "And don't forget to floss after every meal and wash your teeth three times a day. _Diligently_."

Harry chuckled; Hermione was always a dentist's daughter to the end.

" _Mum-Ne!_ " Teddy groaned dramatically, his shoulders slumping. "My name is _Teddy_."

"You know I can't help it," Hermione said. She straightened up the striped jacket he was wearing and swiped off any dust it might have collected. She suddenly seems like she couldn't fight an urge and she pulled the young wizard into a last, desperate hug.

"Er, M-Mum-Ne?" Teddy stuttered. Harry smiled fondly at the sight.

"You better call us through Floo as soon as you're home," said Hermione, tightening her hold. It was this that made Harry intervene by putting his hand on her shaking shoulder and she took in the sight to let go of Teddy and wipe the unshed tears from her eyes.

"C'mon," said Teddy softly, "you'll see me in the holidays and they're not far away."

"We know, son, but we just want you to be safe and take care of yourself over there," Harry retorted. "Dragons are dangerous creatures and anything can happen. Just please do what you're supposed to do to kill two birds with one stone."

"I'll try," Teddy agreed.

Then, not knowing what possessed him to do it, Harry reached inside his coat and pulled out a book, the same book he found in Albus' bookshelf. The title, _The Beedle and the Bard_ , stared back as him as he held it out to Teddy. Next to him, Hermione gasped in shock.

"So that you won't miss us too much – take this," Harry said, glancing at the brunette curiously. "I'm sure Hermione wouldn't mind you having it for two months."

Hermione, with great surprise, smiled easily. "Of course not. But someone has to explain to Albus why he can't find it."

"I will," Harry said.

Teddy accepted the book and read the title tenderly. Just like Albus, Hermione read him stories from the book when he was a baby and it was until after he took Ancient Runes Class in Hogwarts that he started to read the book cover to cover as much as he wanted and never got rid of it. Growing up with the book, Teddy could never resist asking him, Hermione, or Ron about their adventures and he always found their stories more interesting than the other adults he ever interacted with. So the book held memorable times of when Teddy bonded with each of the trio.

"Think I'll be able to translate it accurately like you Mum-Ne?" Teddy chuckled playfully, although, he looked like he was going to cry and that surprised Harry a little. All the other times he would leave for Romania he never showed the signs he is now.

"You've certainly improved since then," Hermione said. "I have no doubt."

Teddy nodded but didn't say anything else. He simply tucked the book in his jacket and dragged Hermione in a big embrace that she happily returned. Harry dug his hands in his pockets while watching them whisper a quiet private conversation with each other. A part of him never got to know how his godson and best friend got close; he remember that it had taken Hermione a while to get it right for her to change Teddy's diapers, stop him from crying, burp him, get him to sleep, and to stop him from pulling her hair, and for Teddy; he had to get accustomed to Hermione's way of raising him, follow her rules, go through her short educational lessons, and move along with her nightly readings. He couldn't find how they have grown to love each other unconditionally like a parent and a child.

After Teddy and Hermione let go of each other, the young wizard turned to Harry to give him a hug as well. It lasted for a minute longer than it was with Hermione before they separated and Harry ruffled his colored hair. It had turned deep blue – he was sad that he had to leave.

"I'll see you lot in Christmas," Teddy told them. "Make sure to have a fresh batch of butterbeer and eggnog for when I come back."

"We will," said Harry as Hermione nodded and sniffed lightly. Almost instinctively, Harry wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders to hold her close and he held his breath as she laid her head on his shoulder. He caught Teddy give him an enigmatic look towards him, which he hoped Hermione hadn't caught, and he sent him a tight smile. He could hear him say the same thing that Mr. Weasley said: _Good luck with everything, Harry._

"Bye Papa, Mum-Ne," said Teddy.

"Bye Teddy," said Harry and Hermione.

Teddy smiled before his body is seen whipping through the air and then he was gone with a crack.

Even after he disappeared, neither the witch and the wizard moved from their position or wavered their gazes on the spot where Teddy once stood. For Harry, he was trying to adapt to the fact that his godson has now left his life once again, like he usually does, and the feeling of loss was sinking in on him. He felt it three times in his life with Teddy, James, and later Albus, and he still could not get used to it even when he prepares for it.

Harry glances at Hermione. She still has her head on his shoulder and from the difficult angle he could see she was wiping her eyes again. Her face was puffy and red from the slight crying. He rubbed her shoulder as an attempt to comfort her and he was pleased to feel her become mellow under his touch.

"We'll see him again," he said.

"I know," said Hermione softly. "It's just…I don't like letting him go…and to dragons no less."

"He's with Charlie – he's a lot safer with him there than without him."

"I know, I know…I just…dragons, Harry, _dragons_. We both had our experiences with dragons and we know they're not the most friendliest of creatures. Not to mention he somehow inherited your recklessness involving dangerous creatures," Hermione added with a small laugh as she patted his stomach and slipped under his arm to walk out of the room.

"I'm not _that_ reckless," he called after her and he heard her laugh again in response. He followed her out of the room where he saw her staring down the hall, arms crossed, at the door that leads to the master bedroom. He can also hear footsteps coming from said room.

"Is everything all right with Ginny?" said Hermione. "I felt a death mark over my head from the way she was looking at me."

"Yeah, she's…she's fine…" Harry licked his dry lips as he dragged his hand through his hair, glancing uncomfortably at the door, knowing that in a couple of minutes Ginny would be coming out to have that dreaded talk with him and Hermione about the newspaper and the secret that has been hidden for far too long.

Hermione didn't seem convinced. "You look skittish. What happened, Harry?"

Harry swallowed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He knew he has no reason to hold back anymore once Ginny showed that she no longer believes his words and is accepting the rumors between him and Hermione.

"Ginny knows," he answered reluctantly, "about us. Not ' _us'_ like in that sense but I mean like the secret."

Hermione's eyes widen. "You told her about the kiss?"

"No," Harry said. "But someone, somehow, managed to get the information and published it. It's all over this week's front page."

"What?"

" _Shh!_ " Harry hushed her when she spoke a little too loudly. He glanced at the bedroom door apprehensively. "Yes, someone got the dirt on the secret. Although it didn't really say about the kiss directly…it said other secrets. It even talked about Ron and Luna…about the incident with Rolf –"

"Was it that Skeeter bint who wrote it?" Hermione demanded.

"Yes."

"Bloody hell!" she hissed venomously. "I swear she has no class whatsoever. I don't know who's she is paying but she has someone on the inside of either the Ministry or in the _Daily Prophet_ giving her any information that is too personal. This isn't the first time she –"

"I know about the rest," Harry said. He had been told by George and Ron during his days of suspension.

Hermione sighed. "And how is Ginny taking it?"

"She's calm at the moment –"

"And that's not a good sign coming from her," Hermione finished. "I assume she already set up the Silencing Charm so Lily won't hear her blowing your ears off."

Harry winced. "Actually it's so she won't hear Ginny blowing off my ear…and yours."

"Pardon?" Hermione inquired suspiciously.

"Ginny said she wants to talk to the both of us," Harry explained. He felt sympathy for Hermione when her face went pale of color. He can see that she was thinking her worst nightmare was now coming true – Ron was a setup – Ginny is the ticking bomb.

At that moment, the said ginger emerged from the master bedroom and she paused on a step when she saw both Hermione and Harry looking at her expectedly. She stared at them for a minute before she closed the door and then walked past them with her chin held high, not glancing at them or speaking a word. Harry took that as a silent message, a secret demand to the both of them, to follow her without question.

"Looks like the calm before the storm is over," Harry mumbled.

Hesitantly, they followed the disgruntled redhead's lead back downstairs with Harry keeping his posture in front of Hermione. He doesn't believe that Ginny would go as far as to attacking them. He knows Ginny, despite how terrible everything seems for him or Hermione, would not dare to make herself hurt Hermione or him for their mistakes. She would probably hex them and then let karma handle the rest. Either way, he kept himself in front of Hermione out of old instinct. He knew how bad his relationship with Ginny is going to be but he does not know about hers with Hermione. He had vibes that things between them were not well as they used to be before no matter how kind they treated each other.

Once they all reached the living room, Ginny wordlessly sat on the recliner chair while Harry and Hermione sat on the sofa. The fireplace was still crackling like Harry left it; he could still see remains of the newspaper turning into ash. They sat there in the room with a fire glowing out the outlines of their silhouettes as they glanced at each other uneasily, neither of them not finding the words to begin with, the ticking of the father clock the only thing heard breaking the tense silence along with their unbalanced breathing, and an awkward vibe passed through them as all three pairs of eyes locked simultaneously. Ginny was the first to speak.

"So do any of you want to explain to me what's been going on?" she asked calmly.

Both Harry and Hermione gulped. Harry had to resist the urge to reach for Hermione's hand because he didn't want to make the situation worse than it already is and because he and Hermione were sitting at opposite ends of the sofa. But he did glance at her as she did to him and they quickly looked back at Ginny. Neither of them said a word.

Ginny seem to be growing impatient. "Well? We could be here all night, you know. I put a Barricade Charm around the house so no one can get in or out unless I lift it."

"Well –" Harry began but he was soon cut off.

"We're so sorry, Ginny," Hermione said quickly. "We didn't mean for it to happen. Actually, it's mostly my fault that it all happened – Harry was more of victim of my drunken recklessness so please don't be too angry with him. That kiss shouldn't have happened."

And thus, the truth came out. Harry literally felt his heart stop as he waited for Ginny to take in Hermione's apologetic confession and held his breath when she shifted her weight to sling one leg over the other. She was just staring at them and that made him more unnerved than ever. He was expecting an outburst at first, letting her release all her anger, before she looked this way, all impassive.

"So…what I've been hearing at work is true?" Ginny asked evenly, almost too calmly to Harry's liking. "You two were having an affair all this time?"

"What? No, we weren't shagging or anything like that, Gin. It was a kiss, just a kiss!" Harry cried, shocked. "

Ginny licked her lips, her bright brown eyes moving towards a shameful Hermione and then turning scarlet at the sight of her. But her face remained unchanged from her eyes.

"Why did you lie to me?" she asked the brunette.

"Ginny, I –"

"That time when we talked…when I asked you if there was anything between you and Harry…you said – and I quote in your words – _'Ginny, there absolutely nothing beyond friendship with the two of us. Never has been, never will be. I've got Ron and you got Harry.'_ So why'd you lie?" said Ginny; Harry figured she must be referring to the time she and Hermione were partnered together to walk through the scareshow in Halloween.

"Technically, I didn't really lie to you, Ginny," said Hermione boldly that it shocked Harry.

"Care to elaborate?" Ginny inquired.

Hermione sighed and leaned forward to lean against her knees with her elbows. "Okay, I want you to know that this was not premeditated. I didn't have the thought of kissing Harry that night when my father was brought to the hospital. But it is my fault that it happened – I was fully aware of my low tolerance when it comes to alcohol and I still drank something too heavy for me. So –"

Ginny held up her hand. "Stop."

Hermione complied respectfully. Harry kept his mouth shut as he patiently waited for Ginny to get a handle onto Hermione's words. She stuck her tongue against the inside of her bottom lip and slowl slid it over to her cheek. She continued to hold her hand up but she wasn't giving them any eye contact. Being with her for so long, Harry knew Ginny does this when she tried to keep herself from crying; his eyes softened as he watched her struggle to keep control.

"Look, Ginny…I'm really sorry about all of this," said Hermione. "All of this was my mistake and if it weren't for me…any of this, _all_ of this wouldn't be happening. Everything would still be –"

"Stop!" Ginny interrupted again, her voice cracking this time. She covered her mouth when she heard the weakness in her tone. She still refused to look directly at them. "Just…stay quiet…"

Harry licked his lips. He wanted to speak out to Ginny, to tell her many things that would leave him feeling lower than he is now and to shed a little bit of light through the gloomy cloud hovering over her. But he cannot find the right words to make it possible, cannot find his voice. He was stuck as a stone.

"If..if it…" Hermione tried again. "Karma caught up to me a while ago. Ron and I…we…" she paused; Harry was flabbergasted. "We're getting a divorce."

Ginny finally connected her eyes with the brunette's. "He knows?"

"Yes," Harry answered bitterly. "He's known for weeks now. He's been pushing me to tell you the truth since then but I kept holding off because I didn't know how to tell you. But…I guess you could say the truth is out in the open and I still don't know what to say to you to let you know how terribly sorry I am to have taken advantage of your trust and made you look like a fool, Ginny. That was the last thing I wanted to do – that was never even on my list on things to do. But it's like Hermione said; it wasn't premeditated."

"Yeah, because Hermione is _always_ right about everything," Ginny scoffed, rolling her eyes. When they settled on the brunette witch, they became cold as well as her tone did because Hermione looked concern. "Don't look at me like that. Don't you _dare_ look at me like that! After all those promises, all those lies, and sneaking behind my back with this secret…don't you _dare_ look at me like you feel sorry for me! You _knew_ what you were doing all this time! And to think that telling me your marriage with my brother is ending would make things better – you're lower than rubbish, Hermione."

"I didn't tell you that as a way to make you feel better," Hermione retorted. "I figured since we're admitting secret then we might as well tell them all."

"Oh? You have more secrets, I see," remarked Ginny.

 _Yes_ , Harry thought at the same time Hermione answered, "No."

Ginny's glare hardened. "You're a liar."

"I didn't lie," said Hermione. "I was telling the truth that nothing was going on between me and Harry. Nothing above friendship. It was just the secret – the kiss – it was our mistake. And we were cowards to not have told you as soon as possible. I am really sorry, Ginny."

"Right, well, you can go now," Ginny told Hermione without looking at her. "Don't expect me to forgive you for a long time. You're a whole different person to me now."

Hermione opened her mouth as if to protest against Ginny's words but Harry can see that she was now stuck with a blank space. She did not have a way to turn this around, at least, not at this moment. She closed her mouth, stared at the redhead with sorrow eyes for a full minute, before she looked away and stood up to hastily leave the room. A quick glance at her face, Harry could see a leak of tears flooding on her face when she passed him and he thought his heart had died at the sight. His best friend just lost a beautiful friendship with one of the greatest women she has ever known and he was half to blame for the broken pieces she is leaving behind.

Ginny brought out her wand and waved it around swiftly; Harry listened intently to Hermione's footsteps as they moved to the front door until they stopped and a second later a loud crack was heard rattling through the walls. She had disapparated. And now that she was gone, Harry was left feeling an ounce of guilt and anger towards Ginny.

"You could have let her off a little easily," he mumbled.

Ginny gave a sarcastic laugh. "Are you seriously telling me to give her a bit of slack from all that? You're the last person to be telling me to do the right thing, Harry."

"Look, Hermione's not the only one at fault here."

"Geez, what gave away that idea? The fact I read it in a newspaper or that you haven't done a single thing to defend yourself?"

"Ginny, I'm not going to defend myself because I know what I've done is wrong and one of the worst things I could have done to you as my wife. But what Hermione said wasn't a lie; we really are sorry and we didn't plan for it to happen. It just did."

"That's the oldest line in the book," Ginny spat, her teeth gritted. "It doesn't matter whether it wasn't planned or how sorry you are Harry – it did. And you let it happen by choice, not by chance."

"And I'm accepting the consequences of my choice," Harry said firmly, surely.

Ginny glared at him with an intensity that has him feeling winded but then her expression turned forlorn as she gave him a mocking smile and said, "So what the papers said is true? Rita wasn't pulling a mickey out of me when she said that you do have feelings for Hermione?"

Harry bit his lip. He could hear the way her voice shook. She was on the brink of breaking down in front of him but she was holding herself together with the little pride and dignity she has left. He was hurting her badly but if he gave her the answer he knows she already knows then he wasn't so sure she would be able to be pieced back together again. And when he saw a lone tear run down her cheek, colored by the black of the mascara she wore for the day, he came to a decision he cannot save her anymore no matter how much he wanted to. The words of Mr. Weasley came to his head: _No matter how much you think about it, the result will always end the same._

"Yes," Harry answered. "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Ginny…but yes, it's true. I'm in love with Hermione."

Another black streak stained her cheek. Ginny folded her arms as she looked down at her lap, biting her lips in as to stop an exhale that may have resulted in a sob. Harry took in a sharp inhale, hating to see her like this, hating himself mostly for making her this way. They had spent the most of their years together, promised each other to spend together for the rest of their lives, and that would always mean something to him but he cannot lie to himself that he could make it work with Ginny when his feelings for her were decaying while his for Hermione were surfacing.

"Ginny, I know this is all my fault," he said. "I know I've caused you pain – Hermione's lost your trust – but I swear to you that we will make things right –"

Her unexpected laughter cut him off. "Trying to make things right…that's quite a laugh. It'll never be right, Harry! Not with you or her! Nothing can be right after this!"

Harry sighed while he leaned back into the cushions of the sofa. He stared at her for a long minute, waiting to see if her reaction to everything would make him regret it all. But he didn't. He wished he hadn't waited long enough to tell her everything and saved her from the pain sooner.

"I don't understand why you would let things like this to happen, Harry, it doesn't sound like you at all," Ginny said. "We've been together for years – we were happy all those years. I don't see what went wrong."

"Nothing went wrong," Harry retorted. "It's just me – I'm wrong. A lot of things about me changed; I've noticed things I don't like anymore as I used to and see things that I would love to have or do. And neither of them involve you anymore, Ginny. You didn't do anything wrong; you are one of the most loveliest wives any bloke would be lucky to have and I was the very first of many to be able to have you. I was happy with our marriage and I enjoyed your company more than anyone's – you've become someone precious to me that I am grateful."

A tiny smile broke on her face at his comment and he was glad because these were his true feelings about her. She was someone important to him, a precious piece in his heart, who he is forever thankful and could not replace for being his first in everything special milestone of his life.

"You know…ever since mum told me stories about you, your legend, I was always inspired by you for being such a strong wizard and how you were able to rebound a curse on the most powerful dark wizard in history," Ginny said.

Harry nodded; she had told him this on their two year anniversary.

"Then I met you…and I got to know you better…and I saw you as I expected you to be from the stories; a natural brave leader. You could say I started to develop feelings for you the more I got to see you and talk to you. Every time you were near I always felt happy but I couldn't say a word at first because I was rather nervous around you and still at awe that you're real," Ginny continued. "And then at sixth year when you started to recuperate, I thought it was too good to be true but you proved me wrong…then you broke up with me because you were being like some noble martyr…and then we got back together after a while the war ended and we lasted for so long…I guess we weren't supposed to be together that long…"

"Ginny, I –"

Ginny took a deep breath. "I want you out of the house by six tomorrow. Lily is staying here with me. I'll contact you when I've made up my mind."

Harry frowned. "Ginny, I –"

"Don't say you're sorry, Harry. Just leave."

Harry's eyes softened but deep inside he knew he had every right of receiving any piece of harsh treatment from her; he hadn't been the best husband to her in any way, not even as a friend, and even when they were together he would make them seem like close friend rather than a married couple. They haven't been completely intimate since he returned aside from their moments of performing an oral act in addition that they haven't shared a kiss unless it was Ginny who initiates it. The cold truth is that whenever they kissed or acted heated he would be thinking of Hermione. She was always on his mind like an inevitable curse that he couldn't seem to shake off. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't picture Ginny as Ginny without thinking of brown curls, dark brown eyes, or the scent of cinnamon and he would fail miserably.

Harry gazed at Ginny, seeing the honesty and hurt in her bright brown eyes; she really meant her words.

"Ginny…I know you don't want to hear it but I need to say it: I really am sorry for everything. I promise I will do everything – _anything_ – to make things right again. You're one of the most important people in my life."

"Yeah," said Ginny while more tears dripped down her face. "Just not important enough."

Harry couldn't take it anymore; he had tears forming in his eyes as well as he lowered his gaze, not wanting to look at her looking hurt. She was important – too important for him – but it was such a preditable truth that he couldn't deny and it was obvious that his feelings for the brunette witch who bewitched him that overcome it.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said. "I'm sorry because I couldn't be the man I used to be – the man you wanted me to be again – I tried…I really tried so hard to love you like that again and…I just couldn't. I hated myself for that and if you do too then go ahead, I deserve it."

Ginny shook her head. "Just go, Harry."

Harry sighed. That was a sign for the end of this conversation and nothing he says will change the hurt she is feeling. He chose to listen to her to not make things harder for either of them and stood from the sofa to walk out of the living room. He could hear Ginny faintly sobbing the farther he walked from her and he wanted nothing more than to bury her in a tight embrace to take the pain away but he knew he would only cause more destruction to the heart than giving her the cure.

Harry was already ascending up the first steps of the staircase when the phone rang and rattled loudly. He groaned inwardly, hanging his head low, as he returned to the main floor and reached for the phone.

"He –" Harry began but he quickly held the phone away from his ear when he heard his best friend's voice screaming through the speaker.

"HARRY! – HARRY - YOU THERE, MATE? – HELLO!"

" _Ron!_ " Harry hissed. " _Indoor voice, will you?_ "

"LOOK – NOT ENOUGH TIME – COME TO THE HOSPITAL!"

"Which one?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHICH ONE? ST. THOMAS!"

Harry's blood went cold. That was where Hermione's father was admitted. Considering the grave tone in Ron's voice, he was thinking of the worst possibility for the bright witch.

"I'll be there," he said and slammed the phone without giving Ron a chance to speak again. He quickly went to rack by the front door to get one of his coats and slipped it on before he disapparated on the spot.

* * *

His heart was lodged in his throat and pumping erratically as he sprinted into the St. Thomas Hospital as soon as his feet landed from Apparation. He ignored the people crowded around the entrance, pushing through them carelessly, whilst he bustled forward towards the reception area. Nurses and doctors looked at his rumpled appearance incredulously, mumbling with their comrade lowly while keeping their gaze on him, along with expecting mothers in wheelchairs accompanied by their significant other and going through the breathing procedure. An elder woman was attending them in the meantime.

Harry easily sneaked past them and raced towards the lifts. He was lucky that a woman in scrubs was exiting a cart and he was able to slip in before the doors closed then pressed the button for the third floor. He dug his hands in his pockets and leaned his head back against the vibrating wall, closing his eyes as he tried to block out all worse case scenarios from his mind but still kept a realistic sense. Panicked questions broke through his scattered thoughts; _Is he alive? Is he dead? What about Hermione? Is she going to be okay? No, she won't be – she'll be broken if she loses her father. Is she here? Or is she at Cambridge? Should I check there just in case? What is she expects me there? Or maybe at that secret place she showed me last time?_

The elevators stopped and Harry was already elbowing his way past the doors when they wouldn't open enough. He was glad that the room where Mr. Granger is at isn't so far from the lifts so when he turned the corner down the corridor, passed the smell of alcohol, the sound of newborn babies crying, and side-stepped a duo of gossiping nurses, he left in a messed of undecided relief and concern when he saw Ron sitting on one of the benches outside of the room, his face in his hands. He was the only one visible in the area. Harry stopped himself from choking on the lump in his throat as he approached the redhead and made an odd sound from his dry throat.

"I'm here," he croaked.

Ron's head snapped up and Harry was surprised to see he held no tears or signs of despair. In fact, his eyes were too bright to mingle with the atmosphere of the building and the broad smile on his freckled face was frightening.

"'bout time!" he rejoiced, jumping up to his feet. He clamped a hand on Harry's shoulder and dragged him with him towards the room. "Hugo and the girls are inside!"

"What's going on?" Harry inquired.

"You'll see," said Ron.

Ron pushed the door open and urged Harry to enter first only for him to stop abruptly at the scene playing before him; sitting on either side of the bed were Hermione, with Hugo sitting on her lap, and Carol, both of them expressing their utter bliss through their same beaming smiles as they spoke continuously about their stories for the past two months. And between them, dressed in a hospital gown, snuggled comfortably under the covers of the bed, was a very awake and healthy Aegeus Granger.

Harry stepped closer to them but not enough to break them out of their bubble of equanimity and serenity. He was transfixed at the sight. He had been with the Grangers on certain occasions if planned but he had never stepped into a room with them acting so normally with each other without the care of looking proper in front of company and showing rationality. They actually looked like – there is no other word to describe it – a bunch of nerds. The kind that aren't afraid to show their odd interests and still seem fascinating to look at from afar, not the stereotypical ones with taped glasses, braces, and suspenders, but the ones that makes people want to be around them and soak up their intelligence.

Aegeus was laughing at something funny Hugo said, wheezing and snorting, as well as Carol was breathless and wiping tears from her eyes. Hermione was merely watching them with a happiness in her eyes that is irreplaceable, chuckling a few times. Harry smiled softly. From watching them, Harry can see that Hermione did not get her seriousness from neither of her parents as they seem like a pair of jokers – it was ironic and hilarious to see that the only child of the Grangers acted more like an adult than her own parents do. Harry supposed it made sense for Hermione to act like the mature one. Someone in the family needed to keep control of their crazed antics.

Behind him, Ron clapped his back and said, "The potion worked, mate. It took a lot longer than it should have when I gave it to him but it worked. He was fighting a lot of illnesses, that bloke, but it helped it get through it."

"I was worried when I haven't heard anything from you about it," Harry said. He turned to the ginger. "Thanks, Ron, you helped a lot."

Ron smiled. "I wanted to save him for her too, y'know. I didn't want her to lose her dad so soon. She wasn't ready to go through that yet."

"I know," Harry said, turning back to the pleasant family. Hermione was now talking to her father about something he didn't know about. "That's why I did what I did."

Ron nodded. "You should have seen her face when I told her – she looked a bit sad when she got home so I guess she needed a bit of good news today. She burst to tears when she heard her dad is awake and better. She dropped everything she was doing before she came here – she even forgot she was holding Hugo!"

Harry chuckled. He liked hearing this. He needed to hear and see something good after everything that's happened tonight.

The door behind them creaks and a nurse peeks in.

"Oh, I didn't know there were so many in here," she said meekly. Her voice brought the attention of the family in the room and Hermione's eyes were alight when she saw Harry standing next to Ron.

"It's okay," said Carol honestly.

The nurse stepped aside to allow the doctor who took care of Aegeus, Dr. Caauwe, to enter the room, her pixie hair hidden under a deep blue bandana and her long white coat Harry usually saw her in was replaced with matching scrubs. She was carrying a clipboard that Harry can assume to be information about Hermione's father.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here," she said as she approached the Grangers. "I had to deliver triplets and it was a bit of a nightmare. I tried to finish as soon as I heard you were awake, Mr. Granger."

"It's no trouble," chuckled Mr. Granger. "I have great company."

Hermione smiled at him tearfully while patting on the hand tangled with her other one and Carol gave him a sweet peck on the cheek. Harry and Ron couldn't help themselves from smiling at the lovingly view of their best friend being showered with content and calamity with her two devoted parents.

"I can see," grinned Dr. Caauwe. "Quite a big family you've got here. You're a lucky man." She held up the clipboard of charts in her hand. "Now I'll have to ask you a couple of questions to make sure everything is in order. It's standard procedure for patients like you. Again, I apologize for it being overdue."

"I understand."

Dr. Caauwe cleared her throat before she began, "Do you know who you are?"

Harry thought that was an unnecessary question since the hospitalized man was responding to her very well whenever she addressed him as 'Mr. Granger' but he did not voice out his opinion as he knew it was for cautious reasons. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall behind him as he watched them go through the post-coma procedure.

"Aegeus Meridian Granger," Mr. Granger answered.

"What is your age? And when were you born?"

"Sixty-seven. I was born on the twenty-fifth of January in 1950."

"What is your occupation?"

"I'm a dentist."

"And lastly what year are we in?"

"Two thousand and seventeen."

"Perfect," Dr. Caauwe said. "Everything seems to be right. We will like to keep over for one more night to make sure it's certain. If by tomorrow you're still doing well, you can be discharged."

"Sounds brilliant," said Carol. "Thank you, Dr. Caauwe, for everything. We owe you so much."

"Just doing my job, Mrs. Granger," said the doctor. "You lot have a good night."

"Good night," said everyone in the room before the doctor left the room. The nurse went to check Aegeus' temperature levels, vital levels, heart levels, and changed his IV bag before she started to check off the list on her clipboard. Hermione got up from her chair, whispered quietly to her parents quickly, then placed Hugo on her chair before she walked towards Harry.

"Can I talk to you outside really quick?" she asked him.

Harry glanced at Ron to see him jerk his head then nodded at Hermione. She smiled and walked out of the room with him following her trail. After they were out in the corridor, Hermione closed the door and faced him, leaning against the door with her hands on her back and a gentle smile. Harry stopped himself from looking dazzled by it. He was amazed that she could still pull off such a better smile than him after what happened at his house.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"It was no problem," he said. "You know I have nothing against visiting your dad from time to time."

"No, Harry, I mean thank you for what you did for my father," she corrected. "Ron told me. I can't believe you managed to convince Kingsley to give you access to using magic like that. And for my father too. You won't believe how grateful I am for this."

Harry scratched his neck, feeling bashful. "It really was nothing, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him dubiously. " _Nothing_? Harry Potter, you saved my father. You went directly to the Minister of Magic for permission to go against all laws – all which you work hard to maintain control of – just to save one man, one who isn't even part of the wizarding world. How could you say it was nothing?"

At this, Harry smiled. For years Hermione is always the one who would break him out of his awkward shell with words of encouragement and friendly comments that would make him feel good about himself. Hearing her talk proudly of him like he was the greatest man, while knowing about the flaws of his character, makes him feel a sense of peace in heart and mind to know that she would still see the good in him despite it being his worst moment in life. She would show how thankful she is for his good intentions through his bad choices and he could never grow weary of her doing that. Her support and belief in him are his strengths. It always has been.

"Just think of it as one paid debt out of the many I owe you for saving my life many times before," he said.

Hermione laughed. "This pays all of them, Harry," she said. She pushed herself off the door to bring herself into Harry's arms and leaned her head against where his heart lives, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso.

Staring down at the top of her head, Harry couldn't stop noticing how small Hermione is. Or had he grown ridiculously taller over the years and he hasn't noticed it? Maybe Hermione always did because she hugs him the same way every time; head on heart, arms around his middle. Seeing her short height brought him an urge of protection over her more than ever. He looped his arms around her frame, pulling her close enough to make her seem a part of him, and rested his cheek on the crown of her head as he embraced her with unapologetic pleasure.

"You would have done the same thing for me," he murmured. He just received a hiccupped chuckle and a nod with a sniffle. She was speechless – she couldn't seem to find any words to tell him anything and it shocked him yet delighted him to be the one to leave her numb from words.

"Harry, I –"

"What kind of name is Meridian?" Harry asked. He knew eventually she will turn the conversation towards Ginny and he did not want her too – he wanted to soak in the joy of the night, not the grief.

Hermione pulled back but didn't remove her arms around him and neither did he. Her eyes, once bright in elation, were now dim in despair and guilt, but she somehow managed to force a smile and make it quick giggle even though it didn't feel real.

"It's an old family name on my father's side," she answered.

"How come you don't have it?"

"My mum didn't want me to have it – she and my father went on a debate with it, according to the stories they've told me," she explained. "Eventually my mum won him over with the name I have now."

"Hermione Meridian Granger," Harry mused. "Sounds like something you would hear in the 1800's. Maybe you have a relative who does have it."

"Possibly," said Hermione, biting her lip.

 _Stop doing that with your lip!_ Harry thought pleadingly, fixed on the way how her lips seemed so soft and addictively taunting under her once-then protruding teeth.

"Harry, about tonight," Hermione paused, taking a deep breath. "I…I am sorry for it. I take full responsibility of what's going to –"

"Hermione – don't, stop!" Harry said firmly, the same tone he would use on his kids if they ever lied about doing something wrong or got caught in the act. "Not tonight. Let me handle with Ginny and you focus on catching up with your dad and worrying about the case tomorrow. I'll talk to you later when that's over with."

Hermione seemed reluctant. She clearly wanted to learn about the aftermath of her departure but Harry wanted to continue to see the one of her reunion with her father. It was like a safe haven for him to see a family so secure and well-together over the miracle of another, the same miracle he caused for them, for her. He was the one who made all of the laughs and smiles of this peculiar woman happen because he wanted to. He needed to see her in that way to know everything is going to be okay. If she find a reason to smile for the good after the bad then so can he because she was it.

Harry brings his hands up to hold her face in his hands and chastely kisses her forehead, surprising her, and gives her a smile he hopes was convincing enough to ease off her worry.

"I want to make things right," she said quietly, "with Ginny. I…you must understand what I felt when I saw her that way – the way she talked to me – I've lost her as a friend."

"She will come around," he retorted.

"That would take ages, maybe after I pass on from old age," Hermione sighed. "I can't blame her. But…it still hurts."

"Hey, didn't I say we'll talk about this when everything is over?"

"We have to talk about it, Harry. We need to. We hurt Ginny."

"I am aware but not now, please. At least not here. Your father just woke up from a long coma and I can literally feel him looking through the door. Let's go back inside," he insisted kindly. "He's probably waiting for you."

Hermione still seemed uncertain to avoid the topic.

"I promise I won't give you the slip," he added. "When everything is settled down – your case – your father – we'll talk and find a way to make things right with Ginny again. I don't want to lose her friendship either. She's been around my whole life and it would be odd without her in it."

Hermione became worse. "And what about your marriage?"

"That's in question," he sighed. "She said she'll contact me once she's made up her mind."

"And Lily?"

"Will be staying with Ginny in the meantime. She wants me out of the house by tomorrow at six in the afternoon. My stuff needs to be gone by then."

Hermione's eyes widen. "A-and where are you going to stay?"

"I have a place in mind."

"Where?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Harry, tell me where. Please. I need to know you're somewhere decent and safe," Hermione pleaded, lightly stomping her foot. "If you're just saying that to keep me from worrying then you're staying at our home. You can stay in the spare room until then."

Harry cringed. "I don't think that's a good idea with everything that's going on."

"And neither is staying at a place that could be harmful to you," Hermione countered.

"It isn't harmful – at least, not physically," Harry said.

"Harry, that's –" Hermione suddenly gasped and her eyes shone realization as she shook her head. "No, _no_. You are not setting a foot in that place, Harry, not even a toe."

"Blimey, you're a bossy one," he grumbled.

"Harry," Hermione sighed. "No, you can't go back there. You haven't been there in _years_. Not since the war. Imagine what would happen to you if you went back. What if you break down?"

"I won't."

"But what if?"

"Hermione – _I won't_ ," Harry said strongly. Then he cleared his throat and looked down at the end of the corridor. It seems whenever someone brings up their concern over his disorder, he would end up feeling red anger towards them for it. He couldn't help himself. He didn't like that weaker, fragile part of him he is burdened with.

"Harry," Hermione started again. "I know you hate it when people treat you like you're some sort of weakling and being pampered all the time because of your disorder but I have a right to do all those things this time. It's not about endangering people around you that worries me – it's yourself. You've only acted violent in a way that is triggers _towards_ a person but I've never seen you behave that way when it comes to yourself and I don't plan on seeing it either. I won't stand to be a bystander to see you wallow away in depression and self-pity again. Not this time." She sighed. Her voice turned soft. "Grimmauld Place holds so many memories…it could be too much for you…"

Harry winced. His body trembled in a horrid way in contrast to Hermione's touch when she mentioned the name of the forbidden place. The sound of it awakened the pain that was scarred within him, buried for years from the unmentioned memories, unmentioned people, that it started to make him guess whether it was a good choice for him to live their temporarily. It was the only place he thought of when Ginny told him to be gone by the next day but now, as he listened to Hermione, he wasn't so sure about it anymore.

"I'll have someone with me," he insisted with a shaky breath. "I'll go test myself out before I move in. If I can handle it then I'm moving in – no questions, no second thoughts – but if I can't handle a second of the place then I'll find somewhere else to live in."

Hermione gives him a relieved smile. " _Thank you_ ," she said. She fell deeper into his arms and sighed into his coat as he tightened his hold around her. She lifted her head momentarily to kiss his cheek then lay her head on his heart again. They held each other for a few minutes with Harry stroking her back and hair whilst she breathed him in.

"Let's go back inside," he whispered in her hair before the door behind them opened and Ron's head peeked through the crack.

"Hey guys," he said as Harry and Hermione pulled apart to look at him, "your dad is looking for you, Hermione. I think he's going to combust if he doesn't see you."

"Ron, that's not something you should joke about in a hospital," Hermione scolded, though she was smiling amusingly. She smiled at Harry once again before she went to enter the room and join her father.

Ron looked at Harry with a knowing smile once Hermione was out of earshot. Harry raised a brow at his reaction.

"What?" he questioned.

Never removing his smile, Ron shook his head with a chuckle and said, "You got it bad, mate. You were staring at her arse just now!"

"W-what?" Harry was flabbergasted. "No I wasn't!"

"Sure you were."

"Ron, c'mon."

Harry rolled his eyes as he grabbed his best friend's shoulder and turned him towards the door, playfully pushing him into the room. Ron laughed openly at Harry's embarrassment, the sound making Harry join in the manner. As they went in the room, the Granger family was already animatedly talking and acting hilarious. They hesitated to join but a kind invitation from Carol Grange brought them confidence to sit around the bed with them.

* * *

During their visitation, Ron, Hugo, and Harry were entertained with stories about Aegeus' childhood, how he met Carol and what he had to go through to be able to win her heart (much to Harry's amusement to learn that what Hermione had once told him was true; her parent's history was very similar to hers with Ron) but their favorite times were the small adventures of Hermione's magical outbursts before learning she was a witch. Ron, Hugo, or Harry couldn't hold back a guffaw from learning that Hermione had caused an ice cream machine to lose control and a bookshelf to burst over an excitement of a book she wanted.

Hugo asked Mr. Granger about stories of when he was a baby to learn if he had any humorous moments of magical outbursts, and Mr. Granger replied happily. Harry was pleased to see how much have changed in less than an hour of the night; he never once stopped to think that employers of the Ministry were absolutely talking about the headlines of the newspaper or about the awkwardness that is likely to come the following day when he and Hermione clock in for work. He was absorbing the lost warmth of a father of the caring family that was once broken; he could see that it was Mr. Granger who brings out the light from the two women of his life and that would make Carol go along with his jokes which would make Hermione laugh without ambition. It was a perfect combination of attempt, encouragement, and results – the definition of the Granger family.

Harry wasn't surprised how comfortable Ron was acting with them – he had been with Hermione for a long time – and for a moment, Harry felt shame and regret for him. He had grown into Hermione's family through their friendship and relationship, and it was obvious that Hermione's parents adored Ron to the fullest with the way they treated him like he was their own son. Of course, they give Harry the same treatment as he is Hermione's best friend, especially when they learned about the war and were always reminding him of being their daughter's savior, but it felt more profound with Ron. He figured it is because Ron brought them grandchildren and gave their daughter a family of her own and was loyal to her until their end.

Harry had frowned at this. _Ron was loyal to Hermione until the end_. Unlike him who couldn't gain the courage to admit to his own wife about his mistake. As he looked at the family rejoicing, he wondered if Hermione thought of him differently despite her actions. If they, somehow, got together would she be able to trust him to not fall back in love with Ginny? Or would she use his tryst against him whenever they have a row? He hadn't thought about that. And he didn't have time to do so as he forced a smile and answered a question that Mr. Granger asked about his job.

When the same nurse came in again, she told them they needed to leave as visiting hours were over. Mrs. Granger was allowed to stay because she already brought in extra clothes for the night and she was going to be Mr. Granger's transportation back home if he is allowed to be discharged in the morning. Hermione was reluctant; she wanted to spend the night also to bring her father home but Harry had reminded her that she had a case to worry about in the morning (resulting him to earning a glare from her and a laugh from Ron) and she agreed remorsefully. They all said their farewells with Hermione giving him a kiss on the cheek, Ron and Harry shaking hands with the Muggle man, and Hugo giving his grandfather a hug before they left the building.

Ron was the one who insisted for Harry to stay at their house for the night after Harry told him about the talk he and Hermione had with Ginny prior to his phone call. Although he was proud and relieved that Harry was able to let go of that secret but he was sympatric about the demise of his marriage with his sister. Harry tried to decline but Hermione was persistent and determined that he was left without a choice but to go along with their chivalrous offers.

"Aw!" Hugo whined, dressed in his pajamas, as he dropped onto his bed. "How come Lily can't sleep over?"

"Because she has school tomorrow," said Harry, smiling, "just like you."

"But I don't wanna go to school," Hugo groaned while rolling onto his front and burying his face into his pillow, his floppy red hair splayed over the cushion.

Harry laughed and gingerly dragged the bed sheets over the disgruntle wizard's back. He was dressed in some of Ron's spare night cloths; a white shirt and sweatpants. His hair was a bit disheveled from the shower he had taken minutes ago.

Hugo rolled to his side, his eyes full of purity. "How come you're sleeping over, Uncle Harry?"

"Why? You don't want me to sleep over?" Harry asked with false hurt.

"No – I mean, yes! – I don't mind you sleeping over!" Hugo stuttered. "But how come you are?"

"Your parents asked me to," Harry said quickly, surprising himself to being able to come up with a story so easily. "Your mother should be coming over now to read your good night. Sleep tight, little tyke," he added, giving the young wizard a pat on the head and turned to walk towards the show.

"Can you read to me, Uncle Harry?" Hugo asked hurriedly. "Mum should be sleeping for her case tomorrow. I don't want her to be all sleepy because of me."

"Isn't that your thing with Hermione?"

"Yes but tonight can be an exception," said Hugo. He kicked the sheets off him and went across the room to his bookshelf. He picked off a book from the last row before he went to Harry and handed it to him excitedly.

" _The Catcher in the Rye_?" Harry read, flipping the book in different angles. "Sounds a bit advance for you, don't you think? Wouldn't you like something more fun for kids in your age? Like _Peter Pan_?"

"Mum always reads me books like this," Hugo said. "They're a lot more fun to read about than looking at pictures. Come on!" He took Harry by the hem of his shirt and pulled him with him to the bed. "I'm on chapter six!"

"Okay," Harry chuckled. He made himself comfortable on the small bed, allowing Hugo to lean against him, and have his arms around the child to be able to hold the book better for him to see. He flipped through the pages after he looked at the table of contents and stopped on the specific chapter. "Did your mum just start on the chapter or is she halfway in?"

"Haven't read it yet," Hugo stated.

"Alright." Harry cleared his throat before he began, " _Some things are hard to remember. I'm thinking now of when Stradlater got back from his date with Jane…_ "

Throughout the story, Harry was surprised to find himself interested in the plot. It was unlike any other story he's ever read to Lily. It was a controversial novel of teen angst and alienation, dealing with complex issues of identity, belonging, loss, and connection told through the protagonist, an icon for teenage rebellion, Holden Caulfield. The writing style was also unique, in Harry's opinion, as he learned phrases he never heard before like " _Crumbum_ " or " _Chew the fat_ " but he was able to understand the double meaning of " _Give her the time_ " which made him question what would lead to Hermione to allowing her youngest child to read such a book.

Harry was reading the part where Mr. Antolini was quoting Willhelm Stekel when he heard a light clearing of a throat and a gentle snore on his chest. He peered at the door to see Hermione, dressed in her night attire, watching him while leaning against the frame, arms crossed, and smile gently at him then he glanced down at Hugo, who was completely caught in slumber. He carefully pulled the young wizard off his chest and lowered him onto his pillow, dragging the bed sheet over his small figure. Once he was sure Hugo wouldn't stir, Harry turned to Hermione.

"Quite a book," he whispered, holding up the novel.

"I'm glad you think so," Hermione whispered back while entering the room and approaching her son. "It is a fascinating book. If you ask Hugo I'm sure he won't mind lending it to you for reading." She stroked back the small redhead's hair and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Seems a little too… _grownup_ for Hugo, don't you think?" Harry said. "I don't think it's something appropriate for someone in his age."

"Hugo isn't like most kids in his age," Hermione retorted. "Ever since he learned he's dyslexic he's been trying to get ahead on his vocabulary than his classmates so I buy him books to help him. Also the book isn't too adult for him. He'll relate to it soon so I think of it as a head start on what he might face one day after he hits puberty."

"He really is your son," Harry chuckled. He went to return the novel back in Hugo's book collection and quietly followed Hermione out into the hall after she dimmed down the lights, leaving miniature glowing glob glide around the ceiling. From down the hall, the rumbling snores of an unconscious Ron Weasley can be heard echoing into the silence and Harry laughed quietly at his best friend's unbreakable sleeping habit.

"Thank you for reading to him," Hermione said as she shut the door softly. "I was really a little stressed so I took a longer shower than usual. It would have taken me at least two hours to get him to fall asleep but it only took you less than one. He must have been really tired."

"Aftermath of eating so many sweets," Harry pointed out. "He was bound to rash sooner or later."

Hermione giggled. "Yes."

Harry looked at her worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Hermione answered too quickly to Harry's liking. "I was just thinking about a lot of things. You know how I can be when I overthink. It's starting to take a toll on me."

Harry grimaced. "You're not thinking about Ginny, are you? I'd prefer you think about your case. You'd have a lesser chance of going mental."

"Of course I'm thinking about Ginny," Hermione sighed. "I have a right to worry about you despite all. She is – uh, was my best friend. Aside from you and Ron, of course, she's the only one I could talk certain things to that I couldn't with you two. You know: things only women can relate to."

"You know I asked Ginny one time what it is that you two do on your night outs," Harry said. "Do you really sit around complaining about your husbands and talking about attractive men?"

Hermione formed a mysterious smirk. "Why? Interested in joining the topic?"

Harry went green. "No, thank you."

Hermione laughed. "I'm just pulling the mickey out of you, Harry. But all joking aside, I am worried of her. And you. And the kids. All I can think about is how this is going to affect the family."

Harry sighed. "I know. Right now, Ginny wants to be alone to come up with a decision from all this. Depending with what she chooses, I'll come up with a solution that would somehow benefit to the kids. For now, don't think about that, Hermione, you got a case to do in a couple of hours. You need to sleep."

"I know," said Hermione. "I just wish there is something I can do."

"You can come up with a way after you win the case," Harry remarked. "By then Ginny will probably come to you and, knowing you, you'll come up with a solution to get things right between you two. Like you are with me and Ron: you and Ginny have been friends for a long time. If Ron and I can get past this then so can you two."

"Girls are different from guys," Hermione stated. "We tend to take things too literal to heart. Why do you think you see so many acting so petty nowadays?"

"Guys are the same too," Harry said with a shrug. "We're just too prideful to show or admit it and it helps make it easier to move along."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly."

Harry smiled. He then placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes like he had done many times before.

"Hey," he said, "everything will be okay. I pro –"

"Harry Potter, if you promise me one more thing, I will hex you into next week," Hermione hissed fiercely. "No more promises – you'll be paying it with half of your lifespan at this rate. Just…hope – hope for the best. No promises."

Harry nodded. "No promises – just hope."

Hermione smiled and he couldn't help but return it on her behalf. A strand of slight wet hair had fallen out from behind her ear and rested on her face; Harry knew it would be completely awkward and above all cliché if he tried to brush it away, but it was annoying him, with it being only one hair and all. He used his thumb to hold it back as he moved his hands up to hold her face, tenderly cradling her cheeks in his rough palms. Her smile fell into parted lips, her eyes darkened and glazed with a gaze indescribable to Harry. He felt he could literally drown in the brown of her eyes in shameless delight.

"Harry, I need to ask you something," said Hermione, her voice soft and almost inaudible. She sounded a bit breathless.

"What is it?"

"Everything that's been going on…with Ginny…or in general…" Hermione hesitated. "Is…is there another reason why it's all happening? On your part, I mean."

Harry's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…you've been so different lately," Hermione explained tentatively. "Especially towards me. I'm not saying it's a bad thing!" she added when she noticed the dejected face Harry was making. "But it's unusual as well. I can't explain it but it's like you're a whole new person when you're around me."

 _Because I'm in love with you_ , Harry thought while laughing uncomfortably and scratching his head. He didn't think he was being too obvious with his emotions; he never is. He cleared his throat and said, "Guess I'm just being overprotective. The deeper I go with the investigation, the more cautious I want to be with the people around me. I don't know who's really who now."

Hermione smiled, in Harry's eyes, beautifully at him, her cheeks slightly flushed, and reached for his hand as she said, "Harry Potter, you are a wonderful man. I feel very lucky to know I'm safer with you and cared by you immensely. Thank you."

Harry felt his face grow unbearably warm. He unconsciously squeeze her hand and dipped his head down to kiss her on her redden cheek. When he pulled back, he was greeted by a scarlet Hermione and he took it as her embarrassment and felt somewhat awkward now to have made her feel that way. He slipped his hand from hers and took a step back, trying to lessen the tension among them for her sake rather than his.

A snore broke the silence, making them jump and then laugh once they recognized it to be Ron.

"Do you think Ron is okay?" asked Hermione, staring down the hall. "About Rolf and Luna?"

"Honestly, I don't know," said Harry. "I best guess is that he's fuming at Rolf and sick with worry for Luna and the twins. I'm on the same as him about Luna. I'm worried about her – I haven't spoken to her in a while. I don't trust myself going to her home because if Rolf is there…" Harry shook his head. "Ron is a better choice."

"I'm worried about Ron," Hermione sighed, crossing her arms. "He's been through a lot. Before he was in love with a woman he could never have and now he has to be the one to break the truth to the same woman he wants and see her heartbroken."

 _I know the feeling_. Harry cleared his throat before answering, "Luna is a tough bint – one of the many I know. She isn't the type to let other put her down no matter how bad the hurt is. And with Ron by her side I don't think she'll be thinking of that worthless git."

Hermione smiled. "This could be a good advantage for Ron. Who knows, maybe Luna does feel something for him or she could end up feeling the same way for him."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're a hopeless romantic, Hermione," said Harry with a smirk. He laughed as he dodged a playful swipe from her.

"It's called being hopeful," she retorted. "It would be nice for Ron; he deserves it. If Luna is the one who could make him feel better than he was with me then I want that for him. I just hope he'll have some control and not rush. Luna is…exclusive –"

"Exclusive?" Harry repeated exasperatedly, smiling teasingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. What do you want me to say? Rare? Unique? Uncommon? Particular? I have a whole list of synonyms and I can go all night until I find the right word to your liking."

Still smiling, Harry held his hands up. "No comments."

" _Anyway_ ," said Hermione, "as I was saying: Luna is exclusive but she is still a person. She's going to be vulnerable either way."

"Yeah," Harry murmured. "Maybe we should plan a day for her to spend with us, all of us, so she could get better faster after Ron tells her."

"I'm sure she will appreciate that," Hermione smiled. She took a step down the hall. "We'll talk about it to Ron in the morning?"

"Depends: what are we having for breakfast?" Harry smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Good night, Harry."

Harry frowned in disappointment as Hermione turned from him and started to walk down the hall. _That's it?_ He suppose he could understand her dismissing him so soon, seeing that she does have to go in the Ministry early the next day for her case, but the selfish part of him did not want to end the night with her yet or at all. He glanced at the small clock on the wall above a table full of family pictures and saw that it was close to eleven.

"Hey Hermione?" he said. He kept his breathing controlled when she faced him. "Do you want to have a cup of hot chocolate with me? Or maybe tea?"

Hermione rubbed her arms. "If we do we won't be able to sleep at all."

"I don't know about you but I don't feel the least bit tired," said Harry. He shook his head while rubbing his neck. "But it's okay. If anything I'll be in the kitchen. I'll make sure to replace what I use."

Harry turned towards the stairs but he paused when he heard Hermione say, "Well…" and when he turned to her, he saw her glancing between him and the pathway down the hall, "I could never resist your special hospitality," she said.

Harry smiled as she reached him and they moved in simultaneous steps whilst they walked downstairs together. The stairs had creaked a bit loudly, much louder than through the day. Hermione covered her mouth as if that would stifle the sound and Harry laughed softly as she led them into the kitchen, switching the lights on with a flick of her wrists. Hermione already got the kettle boiling on the stove while Harry went to the pantry to pull out the pack of chocolate chip cookies and went to open it at the counter.

Hermione raised a brow. "Having a sweet tooth, I see."

Harry grunted with a nod as he shoveled two more pieces of cookies in his mouth and chewed soundly. He kept his eyes on the pack even when he felt Hermione move closer to him and stop in front of him from across the counter.

"You can't stop thinking about Ginny either, can you?" she asked quietly as she plucked a piece from the pack and nibbled on the edge.

Harry sighed and weaved his hands through his hair. "I know I'm being bipolar about this – telling you to not think about it or talk about it but…you should have seen her. She cried, 'Mione, she _cried_. And in front of me. Do you know how bad I must have done to make her do that? I hurt her so much."

Hermione didn't say anything right away and Harry was pleased that she didn't. He wasn't sure if anything she said would really help him of his guilt if she cannot be saved from it either.

"I think a part of her knew that there was something," he continued. "I know Ginny; she would have lashed out on me to the fullest but she didn't. I don't think I am surprised. I haven't been the best husband to her since I came back from the mission, maybe even before that. I wasn't giving her enough attention or affection and when I did it's usually when she starts something. I think she was just waiting for me to confess."

Hermione waited. The cookie she nibbled on was long forgotten. She quietly reached across the counter to take his hand in hers and rubbed his knuckles with her thumb, a silent gesture telling him to continue. But Harry did not know what else he could say. He was never good at expressing his emotions. He did not know how to describe the hate, the anger, he felt towards himself for causing pain to a wonderful woman like Ginny.

"You know Arthur suspected something wrong between me and her," he told Hermione. "I don't know if it has anything to do with the row I had with Ron or if he noticed the difference of the way I treated Ginny but he knew. He didn't blow up at me like I expected him to and that made me feel even worse. I deserve him to do that to me. Hell, I deserve Ginny to slap me silly and toss out all of my things and to take Lily away for what I've done."

"Okay, let me stop you right there," said Hermione firmly, the tone rattling Harry out of his self-loathing and shocking him to see the hard eyes she is wearing. "You don't deserve to have Lily taken away from you – no one deserves to have their child taken away from them so get that out of your head."

"Hermione, the way I am –"

"You made a mistake – _we_ made a mistake to Ginny," said Hermione, "but it's not a mistake to Lily. You haven't done anything wrong to her or to James or to Albus. You may not be the same man Ginny once new but you're still the same father your kids love so much. You work hard for them – you worry about their health – you care about them immensely – and you love them unconditionally no matter what. Don't question your abilities of a father because of your errors as a man. There's a difference."

Harry didn't reply. He sighed and closed his eyes as he cradled his forehead in his hand. The light whistling of the kettle and the smell of flavored packets was beginning to give him a headache.

"Harry, we're going to fix this – all of this – with Ginny and with whatever comes our way," Hermione continued. "We're in this together as always, right?"

Harry opened his eyes. Hermione was staring at him apprehensively, biting her lip, still rubbing his knuckles, and patiently waiting for him. He reluctantly pulled his hand out of her grasp only to cup the arc of her neck and caressing the structure of her jaw with his thumb. She seem to have a difficulty to look calm.

"We're in this together," he repeated.

The kettle whistled in a high pitch; Hermione did another flick of her hand and cabinets opened as two tea cups and tea packets floated out of them. Harry chuckled humorlessly as he watched their batch of tea prepare themselves, seeing the kettle hover above the stove that shut off while the tea cups moved under it to get water spilled into them and the teabags rip open to pour powder into the boiling liquid. Hermione really did like the advantage of magic. The two cups then hovered over to them, landing in front of them with a light clatter, and the drawers snapped open as two spoons came out, along with jars, to place in front of them.

"Enjoying that wandless magic, I see," Harry commented as he used his spoon to stir his tea.

"It has its perks," said Hermione as she opened one of the jaw, dropped two sugar cubes in her cup, and stirred.

"You fancy your tea extra sweet, don't you?" Harry remarked.

"Not so bitter that way," Hermione laughed and popped a sugar cube in her mouth. "Don't tell my parents about that. They go mad if they hear I'm not chewing sugarless gum."

Harry smiled at her attempt to lighten up the mood, although failing miserably, and took a sip of his tea. It tasted a little bland so he decided to add some sugar cubes of his own.

"You know I read that article earlier," Hermione said distractedly as Harry took another sip of his tea.

Harry gulped down the load of tea and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Oh yeah? And what do you think about it?"

"Rubbish, as always," Hermione answered without hesitation. But there was a look in her eyes that did not seem to agree with her words. "Skeeter must have thought the material her little mole had was not satisfying enough so she added a pitch of her flavor to it. I mean, it's bad enough that she's targeting us but putting Ron's private life to the spotlight as well? Honestly! No respect to anyone whatsoever. I feel ashamed to know I'm part of the same species as her."

Harry was speechless and thoroughly hurt to hear Hermione say this. She thought the fact of him having feelings for her was rubbish. He was not sure he could recover from that. He just took another sip of his tea to avoid speaking as he did not trust his voice at the moment. _Our hearts break for the tragic hero as his feelings does not seem reacquainted by Granger._ It seems that Rita Skeeter actually got a piece of information right for once.

Hermione sighed deeply. "But I guess you could say she did do something good for once. We were being cowards not telling Ginny or Ron sooner. We never should have agreed not telling them. Eventually the truth needed to come out…I just wish it didn't turn out like this."

"Me neither," Harry murmured.

"Hey," said Hermione while patting his hand, "we'll get through this. Like you said, we'll find a way to fix things with Ginny."

Harry breathed through his nose deeply and formed a small smile as he reached his other hand to her face again to lightly stroke her cheek. He was aware that she leaned slightly into his palm and her lashes tickled her cheeks as she fluttered her eyes closed.

"How do you do that? Always finding some speck of hope in these things?" he asked in a rough voice and he winced when he heard the sound of it. He knew he would not be able to sound normal.

Hermione opened her eyes and smiled cutely. "Someone has to."

Harry chuckled. "Of course." He dropped his hand and took a sip of his tea. "Mm, good tea. What kind is it?"

"It's my favorite – _Sweet Vial_ ," Hermione answered. "It's kind of a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon. It's delicious!" She lifted her cup and took a delight sip to emphasize her love for the substance which made Harry chuckle.

 _So that's why she smells so much like cinnamon_. Harry sipped his tea once more before he said, "I guess your obsession hasn't stopped yet. Better hope you don't get a cavity or your parents will go mad for it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll have to talk to my mum for mentioning that to you."

Harry snickered into his cup when he sipped his tea again and once his cup was empty, he sent it hovering into the sink and then Hermione enchanted the sink on. She finished her tea with a quick gulp before she sent her cup to the sink for a wash and she took another cookie from the pack, nibbling it happily.

"Do you really think all of the stuff in the article is rubbish?" Harry asked.

"Well, not _all_ of it," Hermione admitted. "But the bit of her saying you having feelings for me is a bit of a stretch, don't you think? I mean we've been friends for such a long time and you would think people would know better."

"So the idea of you and me is rubbish?" Harry asked, feeling a pang of hurt from hearing this. He knew she did not recuperate his feelings, as it said in the paper, but to hear her say it directly was a lot more painful than he anticipated.

Hermione's eyes widen. "Oh no, no, I didn't mean it like that, Harry! I just – well, it's just – oh Harry, I mean to say that it's too unexpected, isn't it? You and me? We've known each other for so long and for that to happen – it's a big change. Not just for us but for everyone else. You understand?"

"Of course," Harry said, mentally cursing at himself when he heard his voice waver slightly at the end. His heart was wrenching in pain still. He wanted to crawl to bed and sleep the conversation away. He forced a smile, hoping it would seem playful like he intended it to be. "I'm just pulling the mickey out of you."

Hermione laughed. "Harry!"

Harry smiled fondly at her despite the constriction in his chest. He may be feeling hurt by her words but he couldn't deny his heart swelling in affection to her laughter. It was inevitable.

After Hermione's giggles ceased, she said, "Anyway, it's past eleven. We should be getting to bed."

"Right. Work," Harry grumbled. He didn't want to go to bed soon – he knew he was going to be haunted with the memory of a crying Ginny tonight.

Hermione returned the pack of cookies in the pantry then placed the dishes back in the cabinets after she dried them before she and Harry exited the kitchen, switching the lights off on the way out. They walked up the stairs in slow, light steps, not wanting the creaking noise to wake up Ron or Hugo, neither of them speaking. There was something different in the air for Harry, something he had no control over nor did Hermione. The air held a bitterness that left a bad taste in his mouth. And he knew that it would be like that until he got over Hermione's words in the kitchen and he knew that it would take a while.

As they make it to the second floor and reached the door to Hermione's bedroom, she turned to lean against the door frame with her hands behind her back. She smiled at him, her eyes a bit baggy from lack of sleep yet they still held that irreplaceable shine in them.

"Thanks for the tea and biscuits," she whispered, looking down at her feet, wiggling her toes a little. "I really needed it."

"I enjoyed it too," Harry said, leaning back on his heels. "G'night, 'Mione."

Hermione seemed a bit taken aback by his abrupt farewell and Harry didn't want to seem so rude but he wanted to be alone at the moment. By looking at her, unknowing of his broken feelings, staring up at him with those eyes flickering golden specks of confusion made him feel like he had an endless void in his heart because he knew he would not be seen as more than a brother to her. Looking at her while knowing this hurt him and he wanted to get away from that.

 _This is karma_ , he thought guiltily. _All of this. It's my karma for what I did to Ginny._

Hermione's lips tightened into a thin line. "Good night, Harry," she said softly. She reached up and kissed his cheek. Harry closed his eyes briefly as he savored the feel of her lips, gentle and soft, against his rough cheek. He could smell the cinnamon-vanilla flavor in her breath and he could have sworn his mouth tingled for a taste. When she pulled back, he opened his eyes and smiled lopsidedly.

Hermione smiled then she turned, opened the door, and entered her room (Ron's snores pouring out in the meantime) giving him another smile before closing the door. Harry blinked in bewilderment. The last smile she gave him was different from the previous one; it was full of faux contentment and true sadness. He was not sure if she aimed it towards him or indirectly for Ginny. He tried to shrug it off as he turned to walk to his room for the night.

When he was inside the room, he left a small crack at the door in case Hugo was heard sneaking through the dark and because it was an old instinct he grew up with for security purposes. He slides under the sheets, places his glasses on the nightstand, and dropped his head on the pillow whilst he stared up at the blurred ceiling above him. Hermione's words lingered to the back of his head continuously: _You having feelings for me is a bit of a stretch, don't you think?_

Harry sighed and turned to his side. He doesn't think him having feelings for Hermione is a stretch, far from it. He was a man and Hermione was a woman. They do share a long history of friendship and trust but they're still what they are and that is humans with emotions. For his feelings for Ginny to move towards Hermione doesn't seem like something impossible to happen. He was being what he was and that is being a person. He understood that the way how the situation was handled was cowardly and horrible – he agreed with Hermione on that the most – but he couldn't help himself to fall for Hermione. He has no control of his feelings only to acknowledge them or not which he did. There was nothing he could do once he did.

A long minute passed. Harry listened to Ron's muffled snores and the slight ruffles of blankets coming from the other rooms. He yawned involuntarily, sleeping threatening him to fall. He chose to surrender as he closed his eyes and snuggle deeper into the pillows. A light sound tickled his ears – it took him a while to realize it was him humming the same gentle tune that Hermione had sang to him at his parent's graveyard. He imagined Hermione being there next to him, stroking his hair like she did in the cemetery, and lightly singing the words in his ear in a sweet whisper.

More tired than he realized, exhausted from the long day of mental and emotional stress like he'd ever felt before, Harry drifted to sleep in the faint sound of Hermione's voice and brought into an endless nightmare of tear-stained Ginny.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	26. Destination

**A:N:** I do not own Harry Potter, the character and locations used, or the songs mentioned.

Hi!

I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I know it's been a whole month, nearly two, since I last updated the story and some of you probably forgot about it already but I haven't! I've been busy with work and I'm moving to a new house too so I haven't got the time to even touch my laptop. I spent my only day off to finish this chapter for you guys because you're all awesome for supporting this story and making it this far with the plot so you deserve it.

I hope this will be enough until I finish the next chapter!

Enjoy!

* * *

Come raise the dead

I'm dreaming of the end

Hallucinate the tables are turning and life

Was everything you said

Come raise the dead

I'm leaning on the edge

Illuminate the way to my heart

It's twisting on a thread

Come raise the dead

\- Raise The Dead; Raign

* * *

 _"Because I'm an idiot and I'm selfish and I'm so in love with you and I don't want to lose you."_

\- Damon Salvatore; The Vampire Diaries

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five: Destination**

Harry slept horribly the night before, too restless to dream. When he felt himself waking up he can feel his eyelids warm up as the golden yellow morning came but he did not open his eyes and buried himself deeper into the pillow as he pulled the sheets over his head. His mood was instantly foul. He didn't want to see light – he wanted to be surrounded in the darkness. The evening of the night before with Hermione seemed like a far-out dream now; he decided to store it safely away with the other good memories. But the bit with Ginny was also tucked in too and he was constantly reminded in his dreams of the damage he has done.

It was obvious that the others have awaken – he could smell addicting aroma of food on sizzling pans and someone rummaging through the halls. The others are probably getting breakfast ready as he can hear Hermione's voice talking loudly beneath the floorboards. He figured that with Hugo down there, he would keep the witch occupied enough to not think to wake him up. Even though he knew it would be a matter of time before he hears the door knocking.

Harry decided to get ready either way to avoid private confrontations. He flung the blanket off him and sat upright, yawning tiredly as he stretched and ruffled his already messy hair. He was surprised to see a stack of his clothes folded at the end of the bed with a small note on top along with a picture of a drawing. He saw it was doodle of him and Lily shooting blue and green sparks from their wands. His vision blurred with tears when he read the scrambled ' _I LOVE YOU DADDY!'_ written in the corner of the paper and he blinked his eyes a couple of times to hold them back as he placed the picture down. He took a couple of breaths before he read the note on the clothes. It read:

 _Took these from your house. Breakfast will be done when you're up. Lily says she missed you this morning and hopes you pick her up from school today._

 _-Ron_

Harry was a bit dishearten to read that he got nothing from Ginny but he was also relieved. He isn't sure if he has the strength to go through another emotional wave from a reminder. He quickly made the bed, got dressed, and dumped his spare clothes in the hamper in the corner before he went to the bathroom. He used the sink to wet his hair and splash a few suds of water over his face, washing away the anxiety he felt throughout the night, and lowered his head a bit, droplets falling from his disheveled hair.

He took time to fall into the feeling of warm water running over his face before he toweled his face dry and turned off the faucet. As he left the bathroom, he found that the floorboards to be surprisingly cold and he was relieved to feel the soft fabric of the carpet on the staircase whilst he walked downwards. A light yawn broke out of Harry and he swayed a little in his steps; he was still tired from his awful sleep because he never got to relax properly and his eyes drooped slightly. He wished it was still nighttime – he needed to crash now.

The kitchen was a little messy with opened containers, jars, and boxes but it wasn't the kind that would made one disgusted. It made him chuckle heartily. Despite the unexpected sight, the kitchen was bright, happy, seeming to shove his bad mood out of the house. He saw Hermione and Hugo walked around, searching through different ingredients as the pan on the hot stove sizzled loudly, the surfacing steams containing the pleasant scent of pancakes. He leaned against the frame while watching them in amusement, a lazy grin never leaving his face as they danced around the kitchen, oblivious to his presence. He had to stifle a laugh when Hugo accidentally bumped into Hermione, causing her to spill the bowl of pancake batter on his head.

"Sorry!" Hugo laughed as the batter dripped over his face. He seemed to be enjoying the incident rather than upset by it, Harry noticed, and he can only imagine that it was because the young wizard was thinking of the bright side of it all; he was spending it with his mother.

"Oh Hugo!" gasped Hermione, placing the bowl on the nearby counter and kneeling as she brought out her wand. The corners of her mouth were twitching and Harry knew she was trying to not laugh also as she casted the Cleansing Charm on Hugo.

It was a scene Harry was not used to seeing frequently but it was like a savior to him from the intense and emotional atmosphere that has been dragged on with him from the previous night.

Hugo licked his lips appreciatively, having caught a bit of the batter before Hermione cleaned him, and he smiled happily as he said, "Tastes delicious, mum!"

"Hugo, you silly boy," Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. She playfully ruffled his hair before she went to take the bowl to the sink.

Hugo finally noticed Harry's presence and loudly cheered his name as he sprinted over to the raven-haired wizard. Harry was quick to prepare for the tackling hug Hugo threw his way and heaved the young child in his arm, holding him against his hip.

"G'morning, little tyke," he said.

"Morning, Uncle Harry!" said Hugo. "We're making pancakes! With bananas! And strawberries!"

"That sounds delicious," Harry grinned. "Are you our personal chef today?"

"Yes," Hugo nodded. "Mum is my assistant."

"I don't remember making that agreement," added Hermione over the roaring stream of the running faucet. She peered above her shoulder. "By the way, Chef Hugo, flip your pancake or it's going to keep burning."

Hugo gasped and wiggled out of Harry's grasp to run towards the skillet that held a bubbling pancake and used a spatula to flip it. Harry looked at the covered counter interestingly with an amused smirk as he walked towards Hermione and glanced at Hugo over at the stove while he stood next to Hermione.

"Do you always let him cook?" he asked her.

"Only under my supervision," Hermione answered. "I think he's going through that ' _I'm a big boy and I can do it myself'_ stage. He's been begging me to teach how to cook and he wouldn't let me help him with breakfast except with the batter."

"He seems to have gotten the hang out it," Harry said as Hugo flipped a pancake onto a plate, nearly making it flop over the edge but managing to save it, and then started to add the fruits and syrup.

"He sure has," Hermione smiled.

"Your pancake is done, mum!" said Hugo. "Where's dad?"

"He's getting ready for work, sweetie," Hermione replied. "Speaking of which, I'll make the rest. You need to wash up and get ready for school."

Hugo groaned. "But mum, I haven't done dad's or Uncle Harry's!"

"Young man – wash up – get dressed – and come back for breakfast," said Hermione warningly.

Hugo pouted and glanced over at Harry hopefully. Harry quickly held up his hands in defense and shook his head.

"Don't look at me," he said. "My hands are tied on this one."

"Aww man," Hugo grunted. He peered at the two adults for a second before he grudgingly turned down the heat of the stove and then left the kitchen with slumped shoulders.

"Is it me or is he acting more like Ron about school?"

"More or less."

Harry went to the stove to lower the heat and then he started to make a new batch of pancake batter before he poured it in the skillet after he was done. At the sink, Hermione smiled at him but then shook her head and scowled.

"Harry," she said, "you don't need to do that. I can handle that."

"I don't mind," Harry said while watching the pancake cook. "Besides you know you love my cooking more than anything."

"You cooked breakfast for me last time, Harry," said Hermione as she turned off the faucet and used a paper towel to dry her hands. "You're in my house, too. How about you set up the kitchen while I cook?"

"I'm already cooking," quipped Harry. He could smell the pancake drying up and used the spatula to flip it over.

"Harry, no," said Hermione as she attempted to take the spatula from his hands but Harry used his height as an advantage and held it farther from her over his head. "Harry!"

Harry grinned. "You're so short, 'Mione."

"I'm not short!" Hermione grumbled as she stretched on her toes to and held on his shoulder to pull herself upwards. "You just grew ridiculously tall," she muttered, disgruntled which made Harry laugh.

Harry simply stood there while watching Hermione continue to try to snatch the spatula, occasionally hopping a little, and he could feel his face warm up at the close proximity between them. She was huffing irritatingly, mumbling incoherently under her breath, and letting out a breath whilst she scowled up at him with her hands on her hips.

"You're incorrigible," she said.

Harry smirked. "You do realize you could have just used magic to get the spatula."

Hermione's face became scarlet red, her eyes betraying her with the reveal of her shock, and she clicks her tongue as she reached up a hand to pinch his nose, making him groan.

"If I didn't know any better, I say you're finding pleasure in picking on me," she said.

Since she was still holding his nose, his voice sounded high and squeaky as he spoke, "It does have an entertainment in it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and released his nose. It was slightly red and throbbed a bit from being held so long but it did not bother Harry much. He lowered the spatula to hand it to Hermione as he rubbed his nose and watched her flip the pancake onto a plate.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

Hermione was rigid for a second before she shook her head and gave him a weak chuckle. "Not really. But then again, who could sleep with Ron snoring into their ear? I think he might have gotten louder with it."

Harry was not convinced. He can see that she was trying to avoid the subject of Ginny now and he could understand her reason a little; she has a case she needed to worry about, one where she could or could not put behind a criminal behind bars if she played her cards right. She couldn't put her personal problems in her professional life. He wanted Rowle to be found guilty more than anyone, probably more than Hermione does also, and he could see that she also has a lot of pressure of the entire Ministry, the whole wizarding community, and the families of Rowle's victims weighing down on her. The pain of her home could not be mingling in her mind at the moment.

"Yeah, I think he might have," said Harry, playing along. "I heard him all the way from my room."

Hermione smiled, looking relieved and Harry took in pride to know he was the one who made her feel such a way.

"Do you want to go to the Leaky Cauldron today for lunch?" he asked tentatively, feeling a little sheepish.

"I'm not sure if break will happen the same time as your lunch start," Hermione retorted. "You know how long these cases go. It could be possible that it starts an hour later."

"At what time is the case?"

"Six in the afternoon. We'll be spending the rest of the day preparing for it."

"Can anybody be in there? Or does it have to be people who are involved in the case?"

"Ministry officials and those who are involved," Hermione answered as she added bananas and strawberries and syrups on the pancake. "Why do you ask?"

Harry shrugged. "I was just thinking of… popping in and watch…maybe even stand by as security in case if things get out of hand."

In reality, Harry did not feel comfortable with the thought of Hermione and Thorfinn being locked in the same room together. He did not doubt Hermione's combat abilities – she was the second best next to him – and he knew she could take care of herself but it was an old reflex in him when it came to Hermione standing in front of any form of danger. He had it since their second year when he saw her petrified – cold-skinned and unmoving like stone – and it had increased more as the years went by.

"Don't you have an investigation you need to work on?" Hermione questioned.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but Rowle is one of my suspects. I arrested him so I was thinking it is appropriate that I am there to make sure he is charged guilty."

"That's sweet of you, Harry, but you don't have to be," Hermione said as she added the pancake batter onto the skillet. "You should focus on your own work and try to finish it. I'll be fine."

Harry was disappointed of his offer being rejected but he could understand that she was right – he needed to work on his investigation to find Yaxley and Jugson.

"That plate if for you by the way," Hermione stated, pointing the already prepared pancake beside her.

"Cheers," he mumbled. He pulled out a fork and a knife from one of the drawers before he took the plate and placed it on the counter away from Hermione so he could start eating it. As he chewed his first few bites – enjoying the taste of sweetness – a couple of footsteps padded close by and when he looked up, he saw Ron and Hugo enter the kitchen.

"M-mornin'," yawned Ron, ruffling his slightly wet hair. His groggy posture turned alerted when the scent of pancakes hit his nose.

"Don't even think about it," said Hermione. "Set up the table – yours is almost done."

Ron groaned then he glanced at Harry and glared at him as he smiled teasingly at him, chewing happily his breakfast. He turned back to drill holes into Hermione's back and pointed a finger at Harry as he said with a whine, "How come Harry gets to eat?"

"I told him to do it but he wouldn't," answered Hermione, casting an accusing smirk towards the dark-haired wizard. Harry didn't say anything; he smiled and took another bite of his pancake.

"Thanks mate," said Ron sarcastically. "You left me with set-up duty."

"Sowwy," said Harry with a mouth full of pancakes.

"Better be," mumbled Ron as he turned to leave the kitchen.

Harry swallowed his pancake and said, "Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes and bringing in mine's, Ron."

"No probem," Ron replied before he disappeared through the door.

Hugo, freshly dressed and combed, walked up to Hermione and tugged on her shirt. He gave her kind eyes when she glanced down at him.

"Are there any grape juice left?" he asked.

"There's a bottle in the refrigerator behind the milk," Hermione told him as she flipped a pancake on a plate and it floated out into the dining room; Harry never saw her cast a spell on it. "Do you have everything ready?"

"Yes," answered Hugo. "Pencils – homework – notebooks – textbooks – they're all in the bag."

"Good."

Hugo went to take his grape juice out of the refrigerator and walked out of the kitchen after he ruffled Harry's hair along the way. Harry chuckled; Hugo was becoming more like Ron every day and still held a pinch of Hermione in him.

"Well, I should get going. I need to take Lily to school today," he said once he was done with his breakfast and moved to the sink to start washing.

Hermione paused on adding the last of the pancake batter on the skillet and looked at him. "Do you think Lily knows about last night? She must have questioned where you've been all morning."

"I can imagine she has," Harry sighed. "But despite it all, I'm not going to just abandon Lily over my mistakes. I promised her I wouldn't leave her if anything…" He licked his lips. "She's my little girl."

Hermione smiled. "She is, Harry, she is. And I think it's admirable that you're making sure she is reminded of you as her father. She is quite lucky."

Harry grinned. "Cheers." He stretched out his arms. "I better go or I'll make her late. Thanks for letting me stay over tonight."

"Do you want me to make you lunch?" Hermione inquired. "Since we might not see each other and be busy today."

"I'll eat at the canteen."

Harry debated for a moment then hesitated before he gave in and leaned down to give her a kiss on her cheek. He was a bit surprised that she turned her head to give him one as well and later smiled shyly at him. He was hypnotized for a second before he blinked and cleared his throat, trying to fight off the blush rising on his cheeks.

"See you," he murmured before he quickly disapparated.

* * *

Entering the home he has lived in for years and feeling foreign in its warm atmosphere made Harry feel like a stranger breaking and entering. He could hardly swallow his breath while under the pressure of faults and guilt on his shoulders. Knowing Ginny is in the kitchen, making a breakfast for two, he was actually afraid to make his presence known. It was very hard to scare Harry – this was proven after many years of torment and gruesome acts – but this time he could feel his heart thumping frighteningly hard under his chest. He wasn't scared of Ginny – he was scared of the outcome Ginny might have become.

But as he made a move to walk across the erringly quiet foyer and stepped through the threshold towards dining room, he caught a whiff of sausages and grilled bread before he heard a loud, excited shriek, and his vision was obscure by a fluff of red hair. His arms immediately wrapped themselves around his daughter who had thrown herself onto him in a hug that hardly moved him an inch and he twirled her around, making her laugh happily as she does on Christmas. The joy heard coming from her made his heart cease in relaxation and the goose bumps that rose on his skin were smoothed away. Her model dragon can be seen floating above their heads in circles, watching them interestingly.

"DADDY! Look mum, daddy is home, he's home!" Lily cheered. "Where have you been? You were here to save me from monsters! Or to eat with me, daddy!"

"Sorry, honey, I had –" Harry paused as he whacked his head for an excuse, " – I got called in at work for something important, very classified. Took me longer than expected."

Lily frowned. "They better not be sending you away again."

"No, no, they're not," Harry smiled at her heart-shaped face. "Did you eat enough?"

"I'm almost done," Lily said. "I need to finish my milk."

"Go on, then," Harry retorted as he placed his daughter back on her feet and allowed her to skipped back to the table to drink up the remains of her milk. His eyes shifted to the next redhead in the room, seeing her gather up her dishes and sending them floating back in the kitchen where he assumes she must have enchanted to clean themselves.

"I'll be at work until nine today," said Ginny without looking at Harry as she placed her work sheets in her purse. "You can pick her up."

It was not a question. It was a demand that is not to be asked about. Harry nodded respectfully and did not say anything further. He did not want to push his luck. He can see that this was an unofficial agreement to be civil around Lily. He was grateful enough to be able to enter his own home to pick up his own daughter.

"I'll see you later, sweetheart," Ginny told Lily, kissing her on her head, and turned to walk towards Harry. She looked at him blankly in the eyes, making him rather uncomfortable. "Have you found a place?" she asked lowly.

Harry swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," she said simply before she lowered her head and briskly walked past him.

Harry didn't chase after her; he stayed rooted on the spot, listening to her walk out of the house and closed the door. He closed his eyes and sighed. He knew this would happen. Usually whenever Ginny is feeling anger – real anger – towards him, she would not spare a second glance or word to him. Normally he would know how long it would be until she speaks to him again but never in a situation like this and he doubts he will find out when she will again. She probably won't again.

"Done!" announced Lily, sporting a milk mustache on her upper lip but her radiating smile sparked brighter. Harry chuckled and used his thumb to wipe off the substance after she collected her backpack from the table and approached him. He then wandlessly made the used dishes and utensils to float in the kitchen.

"You have everything?" Harry asked.

"Yes!" Lily grinned, hitching the strap of her bag over her shoulders.

"You have all your homework?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes, daddy."

Harry chuckled. "Alright. Let's go."

Lily ahead of him to the front door, talking animatedly about her plans during recess and her time with Hugo after school. Harry took his time behind her, taking the car keys from the hook, making sure he had his wallet and important ID's inside, and to check if he had his wand in his pocket, before he left the house.

When he unlocked the car, he stood by the door, watching Lily hop in the car and see her buckle up through the windshield. It befuddles him how Lily is able to even force a small smile even when she suspected something off between him and Ginny or had a share of squabbles with Hugo and the kids in the school. She kept her air of innocence and naïve through it all. It could be a defense mechanism she formed up to avoid facing the worst.

But seeing Lily, acting normal and the same as usual, gave him a speck of hope. If she could move through everything (not counting her mind of a child, Harry thought) then he could try also to be her father. So with a deep breath, Harry locked the door and walked to the car.

* * *

 _No one is staring at you_ , Harry promised himself. _No one is staring at you. NO ONE IS STARING AT YOU._ But he knew that he was failing terribly at lying to himself when he could feel a suffocating swell of piercing eyes watching him.

It has been seven minutes since he dropped off Lily at her school (after sharing a quick word with Ron who dropped off Hugo) and when he arrived at the Ministry, he was showered with gazes of all kinds once he was noticed. Whispers broke out in the atrium, his name popping in the hushed conversations, and looks were shot towards him at every direction as he walked stiffly through the crowd, which he noticed was parting in his way. He dared to peek hesitantly at his left – next to her comrade, Mrs. Micher had fully turned to scowl at him fully in his direction. Her eyes were scarlet, boring into his deeply, and he flinched back, immediately turning to look frontward. When had anyone gotten so blatant about staring at other people?

Harry glanced at his right and he regretted it. A group of eight members were staring at him bluntly with disappointed frowns and a shake of their heads. A few meters away from them, Mr. Charcoal was gawking at Harry, almost like he find it hard to believe that he was bold enough to show his face there.

Harry reached the lifts and entered the most vacant one available. He was pleased to see no one tried to join him and also a little discouraged to they didn't. He pressed his floor then leaned back while holding onto one of the hangings and waited as the cart shot off to its requested destination. The announcer's voice named each floor he passed although it sounded like a faint muffle in the background when his thoughts on the people he passed are loud and ear-splitting. They went back to Hermione; he can imagine what kind of reaction she received when she clocked in and a pang of worry hit him as he thought about how she must be handling right now about the people who read the newspaper. He wondered how she is behaving now – anxious or pensive.

He can imagine the cold shoulder she must have gotten from her peers who respected her greatly and being shunned because they read that article that basically attacked them with their own secrets and personal lives. He hoped she was not letting that affect her opening hearing that she must be handling right now or that the counselors would not let their judgment change because of the news and that Hermione was able to pull them to her favor. He debated whether he should go to the courtroom to see how she was doing with everything.

The lifts stopped and after Harry pushed the entrance open, he found himself standing in front of a Ministry duo he recognized to be Jack and Anderson, members of the Forensics Department. They were talking until they saw him and raised eyebrows at him, their reactions the same as Mr. Charcoal, silently demanding him behind his reason to show up at work, in what they like to call their territory of the Ministry.

"Morning," Harry mumbled. He made an attempt to walk past them but they wouldn't budge. He looked at their faces; they seemed eager and impressed. They were staring at him like he was a brand new man, like a god of some sort.

"Um, Auror Potter?" said Anderson, a brunette man who looked to be in his late twenties. He glanced at Jack, a dark haired man with a bushy beard, who nodded urgently, and turned back to him. "I'm sorry to bother you but I need to ask you something."

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Harry said, "Yes. What is it?"

"Well, you see," Anderson said politely while Jack bit his lip in anticipation, "we were wondering is that how were you able to do it?"

Harry blinked. "Do what?"

"To get two witches at the same time," Anderson clarified; Harry felt a fire ignite within him but he kept his breath steady as the man continued, "I mean you were able to snag your wife – who is quite the sight, if I may add – and now you were able to get Counselor Granger. She isn't sore for eyes either. How were you able to get the both of them at the same time?"

Harry's knuckles grew white as he balled up his hands into tight fists on his sides.

"Yeah, I mean," said Jack, "you have a gorgeous woman like your wife so she must have been amazing in any way possible. I've heard rumors about you and your old escapades with her when you were a trainee. Does she not satisfy you as much anymore? Does Granger do things better? She must have if she can get you to –"

"I suggest you don't finish that sentence if you want to keep all of your teeth," Harry hissed heatedly, feeling his blood boil dangerously. How dare they ask him such things? How dare they talk about Hermione like she was a sexual object? And how dare they talk about Ginny that she was a cheap past?

Jack held up his hands in defense while Anderson widened his eyes in fear. Clearly they know better than to speak so rudely in front of a trained officer like him, a top professional in torture and knowledge in pressure points.

"S-sorry sure, but we just had to ask," Anderson stuttered quickly. "You and Counselor Granger doing something like _that_ is sort of unexpected. So when we read about it yesterday it took us by surprise."

"Yeah!" said Jack almost too enthusiastically that Harry had to give him a hard glare and he sheepishly scratched his head as he said in a controlled tone, "It was kind of big news."

"That article was rubbish," Harry growled, feeling his energy drain from the conversation – he just wanted to get to his office already. "And what Counselor Granger and I do in our lives outside of the Ministry is none of your business nor the _Prophet's_. Let this be a warning; if one of you is that bloody mole I've been hearing about, I'll be coming to you personally for evading one's privacy and harassing a civilian of the community. I'll make sure that your penalty will go beyond. And if I ever hear you –"

"Harry Potter! Auror Harry Potter in the flesh!"

Harry was interrupted by the familiar voice of Gerald Dillingham calling out to him not too far and the young man is seen approaching from behind the two paralyzed wizards with a look of knowing and a smile of safety. Harry felt relaxed at this.

"Gerald," said Harry with a nod.

Gerald pushed his way past the two rude wizards and wrapped an arm around Harry, clapping his shoulder. "Long time no speak my good chief of the law. How are things?"

"Good," Harry answered. "Just speaking to a few curious fellows here."

Gerald arched a brow. "Jack. Anderson. Bothering another one of our esteemed colleagues again, aren't you? Did you not learn from what happened earlier with a certain brown-haired witch?"

The bushy beard man looked flustered and had an annoyed expression on his face at the same time. He unconsciously crossed his arms while the brunette wizard clasped then unclasped his hands and wiped his palms over his robes.

"No, no!" Anderson stuttered. "We were having a friendly conversation, that's all. We were just leaving. Have an important meeting and all."

"Of course," remarked Gerald with a sly smirk.

Fidgeting over their feet and fumbling out their farewells, Anderson dragged Jack with him past Harry and Gerald then to the lifts without glancing at them and hurriedly pressed a random button, grumbling incoherent words. Jack was whispering to him urgently, shoving him to the side so he could handle the buttons himself and the doors to the lift shut unexpectedly before the cart shot out. Harry and Gerald laughed pleasantly at the wizard's obvious nervousness.

"Thanks for that," said Harry as Gerald pulled his arm off him.

"No problem," replied Gerald nonchalantly with a shrug and stuffed his hands in his robe's pockets. "The Ministry has been full of gossip whores all morning. Those two were just the appetizers. The guys of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes are like sharks."

Harry paled. "What are they saying?"

"I believe the right question to ask is ' _what are they not saying?'_ my dear friend," Gerald quipped. "Even you're not that daft to figure out what they're saying."

Harry groaned as he wove a hand through his hair, his nails scratching his scalp. His thoughts went back to Hermione and how she was ambushed with snide remarks, disgusted gazes, and murmured comments like he did.

"Is Hermione okay?" he asked.

Gerald raised a brow and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I just used Hermy as a threat to get those gits off your back. How do you think she's handling it?"

"Right," Harry sighed.

"What about you?" asked Gerald curiously. "How did things go on your end? Hermy already told me her end."

Harry didn't answer right away. They were already in the Auror district of the law enforcement and he can see his presence was already discovered by some of the members as he walked to his department. It was unsettling for Harry; he was well-known for his outstanding reputation and nicely raised children so for him to have the acknowledgement of a disloyal husband and untrustworthy person in general makes him hate himself even more. He is being reminded constantly.

When they entered the Auror Department, Harry almost stopped walking to his office when the chatter of the room halted abruptly at the sight of him as he trudged through the path of Aurors who wouldn't part respectfully like they used to. They seem to not care about his title anymore because they were openly scowling at him and whispering harsh statements loudly enough for him to hear. Although he knew he deserved such treatment with everything that has happened he was frustrated to feel so many stares boring straight through him. He could feel the rejection and unwelcoming aura from them. He felt the same way he once did when he was a kid by the Dursleys and Dudley and his cronies at school.

As he got closer to his door, the gazes became harder; Harry was entirely too drained to deal with the feel of another person's displeasure and was irritated beyond endurance. Gerald patted on Harry's shoulder while glancing around disapprovingly at the other Aurors.

"Just ignore them, Harry," he said sincerely. "Just ignore them."

The words Gerald used made Harry distinctly remember about the time he was shunned in his fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament and he was being made a joke out of Rita Skeeter's schedule. The Slytherins were having a ball about it. He recalled Hermione being targeted also due to their close friendship but she did not let the teasing of others get to her. _Ignore it. Just ignore it, Harry_ was what she had told him but like back then he couldn't simply ignore it. Especially when it was a department ran by his name.

With his head held high, Harry turned to the sea of eyes and said with a strong voice of authority, "Well? What are all of you staring at? Haven't any of you got anything better to do than to wonder about things that _do not_ concern you? If not – _GET BACK TO WORK!_ "

The hard appearances of the Aurors fell as they all cowered under Harry's voice and went back to their previous works. When it came to rare tempered outbursts from Harry, they learned to not think twice about challenging it. No one wanted to be the victim of a bystander in his shouts and deadly rounds.

Harry turned away, opened his door, and walked inside briskly, leaving the door open for Gerald to enter. Gerald whistled amusingly whilst he closed the door and went to sit on one of the chairs as Harry pulled out files from his cabinet.

"Auror Potter in action," Gerald mused. "That's quite a sight for sore eyes. I can see why the ladies throw themselves at you."

Harry grunted as he dropped the files on his desk and started to search through his drawers for a bottle of ink and a new quill.

"So back on topic," Gerald continued. "How did things go on your end?"

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Harry found himself asking curtly as he kept going through his drawers. "I heard you had a case of your own to handle. Shouldn't you be working on that?"

"Already got a trial date or it," Gerald shrugged. "Those bloody parents are getting what's coming to them. But back to you."

"You're persistent," Harry grumbled. "Hermione warned me that about you many times."

"Aww, Hermy does talk about me," Gerald cooed, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "I must be doing something right if she can't go on a day without talking about me. I knew she loves me too much."

Harry smirked. Even though he desired to be left alone in his thoughts and problems, he was somewhat relieved that Gerald was not an easy person to get rid of- his witty sense of humor was a stress reliever and his attitude towards Hermione was hilarious, even when she gets agitated by it. He seems to love to clear the air.

"Are you gonna use that?" Gerald suddenly asked. Harry looked at his hand, which Gerald was pointing at, and realized he had already found the ink bottle and opened it, tipping it slightly to the side and letting the substance drip out rapidly.

"Ah!" gasped Harry as he placed the half-empty ink bottle on the stained desk and quickly picked up the files before the files reached them. "Bloody hell!"

"Not your day, isn't it?" said Gerald as he whipped out his wand and flicked the mess away effortlessly. "I'm guessing your morning isn't that pleasant either, am I correct?"

"You could say that again," mumbled Harry.

"So the wife and kids giving you a hard time?" asked Gerald. "Or should I say ex-wife and kids?"

"I don't know," Harry sighed, figuring he might as well answer if it meant getting over with the topic quicker. He can understand why Hermione never fired Gerald – he was very forward. "Ginny hasn't given me an answer whether she wants a divorce or not. I'm just giving her time alone until she decides. She's giving me the silent treatment as of now."

"Ouch," Gerald winced.

"Yeah," said Harry with a frown. "You don't happen to know who could have sold that story to the _Prophet_ do you? Any idea on who could be the mole?"

Gerald frowned. "No clue. It's surprising – no one has ever gone through Ministry officials so easily like this in, well, ever. The more this happens, the more it's starting to look like an inside job."

"It can't be," Harry retorted. "If it is an inside job then the mole would have tried to get information inside the Ministry _only_. No, this is a scum who is desperate for pay and willing to break every law for it."

"Or maybe it's someone who doesn't really like you that much," Gerald chuckled amusingly.

Harry wasn't really sure. He couldn't picture someone so desperate enough to sneak into the Ministry to get classified stories of all kind and sell it to the newspaper. He could arrest Rita Skeeter for publishing restricted information and exposure of privacy but he would need evidence in how she is getting them; she obviously won't admit who is the mole.

"So you started having feelings for Hermy?" Gerald asked, smirking in a way that a teenage girl would do when she is digging for good gossip. He reminded Harry of a male version of Lavender Brown.

"It says so in the paper."

"Paper is paper," Gerald snorted. "I need to hear it from you. Yes or no?"

"Yes."

Gerald blinked in astonishment. "That's it? No denial?"

Harry shrugged. "I see no point. It's already out for the world to see. I already hurt my wife and most likely disappointed the only family who had the heart to take me in. I'm sure my children will be next even if I try to be a father to them. What else do I have to lose?"

Gerald furrowed his brows. "That's a lot of negativity coming from someone who just found out they're in love with their best friend."

"Well, me finding out I'm in love with Hermione came with consequences as you can see," Harry added rather snippily. He gathered his files and shoved them back in the cabinet; he lost the heart to go through research for the day. "Right now I have to go home and pack up some clothes. Ginny wants me out of the house by six. I have a place to stay but…I have some _issues_ with it. I need to go there to see if I'm compatible to live in it and if I'm not I have to live somewhere else."

"What place?"

Harry inhaled sharply. He didn't want to explain it. He turned back to the dark-haired wizard. "An old family place. Haven't been there for years. Has a lot of history behind it."

"Ah." Gerald nodded as if he understood. "I could never handle places with too much sentimental value. Too much tension in the atmosphere. I like to breathe."

Harry laughed. "Makes two of us."

Gerald rose from the chair and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So you need company for this little visit of yours? I got no important things to do for the day. Just paperwork."

Harry thought about his conversation with Hermione from the previous night and nodded. "I actually do need someone. Kind of like a rock. You think you can take an early break for me?"

"Sure."

"Cheers." Harry glanced at the clock. "We'll go at eight. I need to get through these reports."

"Alright," Gerald said. He was about to turn to leave the office but Harry saw him get a pensive look and faced him again, his face become determined. "I have to ask you something first."

Harry blinked. "What is it?"

"Have you told Hermy yet?"

Harry could feel heat rise up in his face. "No, I haven't. She doesn't feel the same way. She made that bit obvious."

"What makes you say that?"

"She said the article about me having feelings for her is completely rubbish last night. So she finds the idea of me and her ridiculous."

Gerald was appalled. "What? That's impossible! There's no way Hermy would say that!"

"Well she didn't say it like that exactly," Harry murmured. "It was sort of implied."

"You're wrong," Gerald stated. "I doubt Hermy would say something like that. If she did then she isn't the brightest witch I thought she was."

Harry glared at the wizard. It was always like this when it came to someone talking down on Hermione and the depths of her abilities. She had been fronted by it many times to her face and whenever it was behind her back he would defend her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Gerald raised a hand in defense. "Calm down, Papa Bear, I didn't mean it in any bad way." He sighed while lowering his hands. "Look, one thing I learned about Hermione ever since I met her is that – yes, she is brilliant when it comes to logical and rational things but when it comes to emotions and human behavior – not so much. She needs concrete evidence of something to be able to believe it. Seriously, I'm surprised she managed to get someone to put a ring on it."

Harry crossed his arms. "So what you're insisting is that I tell her how I feel?"

"Exactly!" Gerald grinned. "She obviously won't believe some ruddy newspaper run by sleazy media folks."

"And what change will that do? Hermione doesn't feel the same in the end. Plus, I just told my own wife that I'm in love with another woman. I don't think now is the time to pursue a relationship. Especially with Hermione – she and Ron may be getting a divorce and Ron may have given me permission to be with her but even I can see the limits here. I'm trying to make things better for everyone – not worse."

"Harry," sighed Gerald, "I'm doing this more for Hermy than you. Don't get me wrong; you're a fine bloke and all but I'm closer to her and we know things about each other that you and Ron don't. And right now I'm trying to give her a push. This, with you, is that push."

"You're making her sound like she's some damsel in distress. Hermione doesn't need a relationship," Harry said. "She survived without one since I met her. I'm pretty sure she can cope without after having a marriage with Ron."

"I'm not saying she's desperate for a relationship or anything," Gerald hissed, his frustration showing clearly through the vein popping out of his forehead. He took a couple of deep breaths to remain calm. "Look, Harry, I just don't want Hermione to go through what I'm going through. It's emotionally draining and tiring. She needs a reality check of things."

"What sort of things are you going through that has Her-"

"I'm gay."

Harry blinked a couple of times, his brain a little slow to process at the sudden confession Gerald gave him. It was so unexpected for Harry that he had to shake his head and rub his eyes as if it would clear up the temporary fog in his mind. He can see Gerald looked uncertain yet did not show any signs of regret.

"And I'm seeing a married man," Gerald continued. "It's sort of similar to what you and Hermy are going through. I want to be with him but there are complications with him having a wife and all."

"So let me get this straight," said Harry, rubbing his temples with his fingers and his eyes closed tightly. "You're…gay? As in you prefer a man? Not gay like _'you're a happy person'_ gay?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Life just gets more interesting." Harry was truly shocked; for the longest he has known Gerald and gone out to have a couple rounds at pubs a few times, he never saw any signs of him showing any interest to the same gender. He suppose he should be used to it. There are many men he's known that share the same as Gerald that don't cross-dress or anything yet they did gave some signal that they were into an opposite preference than the other men of the group but with Gerald he didn't suspect a thing.

"Promise you won't tell anybody about this," Gerald pleaded. "Hermy is the only one who knows. If anyone in the Ministry heard about this, I'm dead."

To say that him learning Hermione knew about Gerald's secret did not really surprise Harry as much as being told to. Hermione did have secrets about him and Ron that were indecent and unpleasant to have the world to know.

"Calm down, I won't tell anyone," Harry told him honestly. He never seen Gerald act worried about anything and he can see that the wizard was frightened to let his secret out in the open of a place that is full of homophobic people. "If Hermione didn't then why should I?"

"Cheers," Gerald sighed in relief before clearing his throat. "But me telling you I'm gay isn't what I was talking about. It's the situation I'm in."

"Yeah, I caught that. A married man secretly seeing another man behind his wife's back. That's a bit more extreme, if you ask me."

"And snogging your best friend behind your wife's back isn't?" Gerald snorted.

"Point taken." Harry weaved a hand through his hair, licking his lips thoughtfully. "So…Hermione is going through this…with me. Does that mean she –"

However, the door flew open as an interdepartmental memo flew into Harry's office and halted in front of Gerald's face, nearly slicing his cheek with the sharp edges. The dark-haired wizard groaned inwardly, rolling his eyes, and took the memo, unfolding it impatiently and started reading, his eyes darting across the wrinkled parchment. Harry waited patiently, curious yet amused. When Gerald reached the end, he crumbled up the parchment and shoved it in his pocket.

"Last minute meeting with the client," he sighed. "Seems some new material came. I'll come back later for what you asked me. At eight, right?"

"Yeah."

Gerald gave Harry a slight nod before he turned and walked out of the office, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving Harry to drown in his thoughts about their conversation. So many things have happened and he couldn't stop thinking about them. He first hears from Hermione that she finds the idea of them impossible and leaving him in despair to have feelings with her in the first place. Then they turn into confusion with what Gerald told him, almost implying to him that Hermione most likely has feelings for him because she is supposedly going through what Gerald is also.

Harry did not know how everything became so complex. Although he had known Gerald for a short time, he knew he isn't the kind of guy to lie to start a drama unlike other people inside and outside of the Ministry because he is the kind of laidback guy who goes with the flow of things. At least he used to be until he got involved with a married man. He thought about Gerald's words. They were hinting him the possibility of Hermione recuperating his feelings but they were slightly vague. He didn't want to get his hopes up in a misunderstanding of Gerald's meaning – he could be saying that Hermione's guilt was the same as Gerald's in hurting another person with their mistakes.

Harry slumped down on his chair and buried his face in his hands as he groaned loudly in aggravation. His head was throbbing from thinking too much that he thought it might actually combust from too many thoughts. Many voices were echoing in his head and causing a massive ringing in his ears that was piercing. He can even hear his own voice arguing with the one in the back of his head.

 _So many things are happening._

 _You know why they're happening._

 _Karma. I get that. But it would be so much tolerable if so many people didn't know. Everything went the wrong way. It shouldn't have happened this way._

 _Well it is happening this way. You have to go through it. You want what you wanted and now you're getting it in the way you deserve._

 _I didn't want this! Hurting everyone I've known my whole life and taking the risk of compromising my relationships with my kids? And for what? I might lose my job now for that bloody article! The Ministry has a strict thing about image and to have someone like me with a title like Head Auror being the subject of a scandal is known to be an embarrassment! Why did I do this?_

 _Because of Hermione. Because you finally realized what she is to you and what she's done for you. You finally realized what it is that she does that makes you do the things you do, feel what you feel, and think what you think._

 _Yeah, I get that but…is she worth it? I mean I've known her for twenty-six years. It's like what Ron said; why now? What if I'm reading too much into this and it is just a passing fancy? What if I hurt Ginny for no reason?_

 _Think about it. Would you really do something for no reason? Does that sound like you?_

Harry paused, plucking his glasses off to rub his hands over his face and contemplated over his thoughts.

 _No, I wouldn't._

 _Exactly. You find Hermione worth the trouble to go through all of this. This is more than a passing fancy. You're in love with Hermione._

 _Yeah, I am. But what about the kids? I need to think about them. I haven't thought about their reactions to this. I mean Lily already had a feeling something wasn't right between me and Ginny and look at how that turned out. Divorce wasn't an option and she still cried at the thought of us separating! Imagine how Albus and James will react to it._

 _Obviously they won't be happy about it at the start. But just keep on doing your part as their father and do everything you can to be there for them. They'll come around eventually. Besides Ginny hasn't given you an answer yet. Maybe she won't want a divorce._

Harry groaned in irritation, roughly running his hands through his hair, nearly yanking off a few strands, then he slammed his hands on his desk in tight fists and lets out a pained grunt as the impact of his actions started to tingle through his bruised muscles.

 _I can't be with Ginny anymore. It won't work out. We won't be able to work it out. She won't be happy because she knows she'll be in a loveless marriage and I won't be because of the same reasons. That's what Mr. Weasley meant what he said. We'll both be miserable._

 _Is that the only thing you're worried about? You know the answer to all of this. Of the kids and Ginny. But what really has you stressed out?_

 _There's many things that has me stressed out; work, the Yaxley investigation, losing my kids, losing the only family who cared for me, losing my best friend, never getting things right again like they used to be…_

 _But what has really has you worried?_

 _That Lily, Albus, and James won't want me in their lives again. That I'll lose the family I always wanted. That because of my own selfish needs I'll lose them quicker than I got them._

 _And?_

 _And…Hermione. I'm worried that she'll never have her daughter back and lose her son. I'm worried she'll end up like me._

A knock on the door broke Harry out of his troubled thoughts and he slid his hands onto his lap beneath the desk, not wanting the unexpected guest to see his injured hand. But he quickly used one of them to pluck his glass back on and comb his hair to look more presentable.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened and in came a swarmy man, looking to be in his mid-forties, with bleached white hair and a slightly tanned skin. He was wearing the robes Harry recognized to come from Hermione's district of the department and the papers he was carrying gave him an ounce of protectiveness and anxiety.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Auror Potter," said the wizard sheepishly. "But I was sent to you personally to sign these forms. They're for the trial today; we need a proper approval from you to have Amycus Carrow present when he is called upon."

"Of course," Harry said, already reaching across the desk to retrieve the paper and taking out a fresh ink bottle. "Have my men already readied themselves in the courtroom?"

"Security preparations are being checked every hour for the trial," the wizard answered. "This is the first time in a while since we had two convicts in the same room. We trust that your finest Aurors are thorough about everything."

"Fine choice." Harry dipped his quill in the ink and rapidly scribbled his signature in the dotted line of every sheet of the forms before he handed them back to the wizard. "Have a nice trial. I'll probably be there personally soon once I finish a couple of things."

"Thank you, sir," said the wizard gratefully. "Oh! Before I forget." He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small, folded note. "This is from Counselor Granger."

Harry kindly took the note and nodded. "Cheers. Is there anything else?"

"No, that will be all. Have a good one, Auror Potter."

"You too."

The wizard left the office without another word, leaving Harry behind with Hermione's note. Staring at it in his hand, it suddenly felt like it weighed ten more pounds than it looks. Hesitantly he unfolded the note only to be met by a blank space. Harry chuckled amusingly; it is like Hermione to use a spell to keep privacy of her things and she clearly did not trust anyone in the Ministry at all with the topic of the newspaper article flying about. He used his wand, muttered _"Aparecium"_ , and soon a small paragraph written in the familiar luxurious script appeared on the parchment. He instantly caught sight of his name at the beginning:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope everything is going well. I would have dropped by but I was instantly ambushed when I got in the office. Just wanted to tell you to be careful when you go to check out Grimmauld Place – please bring someone with you. Also tell me how things went (keep in mind that I'll ask whoever you went with if I feel like you're lying to me). And I know I shouldn't be reminding you this but I need to know how Ginny acted when you picked up Lily. I really need to know, please. Anyway, I have to get ready for the trial. See you soon._

 _With love,_

 _Hermione_

Feeling a rush of appreciation flooding through him, Harry folded the note and placed it in his drawer under a small stack of forms. He leaned back into his chair as he crossed his arms and let himself get lost in his thoughts yet again.

He thought about what Gerald said; Hermione being in the same situation as him. He was going through complications with a married man and a wife – that is what he told him. Is he saying that Hermione does have feelings for Harry? If she did then why would she say that the article was rubbish? It doesn't make any sense. He has known Hermione for a long time and she never say something she doesn't mean unless she was angry or intoxicated with alcohol and she wasn't on the night before.

Harry sighed while he tilted his head up towards the ceiling. _He probably got it wrong. Hermione and I are just really close. Many people always thought we were more than friends. It isn't the first time._

Yet, thinking like this, Harry still felt a speck of hope at the impossible. It was foolish and a waste of time but he was still doing it without remorse.

Harry shook his head and rose up from his chair to go gather up the files again in the cabinet. Maybe his investigation will help him get his mind off of Hermione.

* * *

Around at eight, Gerald returned to Harry's office to escort him to Grimmauld Place. He was buried in mountains of parchment of crucial information, personal records, connections, reports of crimes of robbery and murders, and lists of witnesses of said crimes. The window behind Harry's desk had been Transfigured into a large map of the world with thumbstacks stuck in places where Jugson or Yaxley have been spotted and dates and timings written beneath them along with a string connecting all of them. So far the only place the two rogue wizards were seen were in Montana, Harry's last mission.

"Your place was a lot cleaner last time I was here," said Gerald jokingly as he stepped over a pile of files to sit on the chair he had previously been on.

"That was only an hour ago," Harry quipped. "You make it sound like it's been ages since you've seen me."

"Meetings do make it feel that way."

"How was the meeting with your client?" Harry asked as he continued to read an old report concerning his criminals; it was of a man who had been enchanted with an amnesia spell and he had detailed the purpose behind Yaxley's appearance in the pub, which was to meet up with Jugson for an exchange.

"It was…alright," Gerald tried to make it sound casual but Harry can hear the distress in his voice and that made him look up from his report briefly to see the despair look on the wizard's face.

"That bad?"

Gerald sighed. "You tell me. The poor bird can't feel safe anywhere she goes. She is under Witness Protection with some of your Aurors – one of the best, I might add – but it seems her parents have been in a deeper hole than just their hatred to her being lesbian. It seems they formed up a group or a cult of some kind that goes against gays and their sole purpose is to 'cleanse' the world from 'filth'. I think you've heard of them at some point. They were founded a decade ago."

Harry nodded, his eyes narrowing. He knew exactly what group Gerald was speaking about: The Right Alliance. They have been under the radar of the Aurors since they first harmed a pair of men because they were spotted flirting. They were like Snatchers in a way, a crowd of bounty hunters who would do any dirty deed involving anyone of the LGBT community to get a good pay. Someone who is against them will contact someone to from the Right Alliance to come eliminate them.

The Wizengamot held up trials against those the Aurors would arrest and some will be locked away while others managed to remain innocent. There haven't been any reports concerning the opposing cult, which Harry can assume is them staying on the low because they knew his department kept their eyes on them more alarmingly, until now.

"So they tried to assassinate her," Harry stated.

"With poison," Gerald added. "We had her living in a safe house in a small canton in Costa Rica. A small place, not too many people but a lot of them are nice. She settled there quite nicely. It seems members of the Right Alliance grew more over the years since they were last heard. Right now we're working with your Aurors to find out where the others are before things get out of hand. We're conducting interrogations with the sleazy gits who tried to kill the girl. So far we haven't been able to crack them yet."

"Have you gotten any clues of where their base could be in Costa Rica?" Harry asked.

"We managed to trace the back to a flat they were renting in San José. The landlord there told us that they've been staying there for nearly twenty years and never once brought problems or had any complaints from the other residents," Gerald explained. "They were very secretive and kept things between themselves which he didn't mind because he didn't like drama or wanted any problems so when we told him they were suspects for attempted murder he was shocked. Guess they kept up a pretty decent appearance."

"Did they have anything that could have compromised the little girl's location?"

"They had almost everything on her background. Right down to her favorite diner to eat in. It's no doubt her parents didn't hide any secrets about their only child. Whoever they spoke about her to spread it out to other bases around the world so her identity was too easy to spot on to these guys and when the news about her being a lesbian broke out – well, you get the rest."

"And where is this girl now?" said Harry. "If her identity isn't safe then she can't be anywhere too calm or easy. Those are considered the most obvious places where people like her will be in."

"She's staying with one of your Aurors, Sam Jenkins," answered Gerald, the relief in his voice open. "I think it is the best place to be. She lives with a big family – kids are wonderful and not prejudice – husband is an excellent person to play the father figure for her in the meantime – and she has four generations of Aurors under the same roof. I don't think anyone from the Right Alliance would dare to break into her house anytime unless they're suicidal."

Harry finished highlighting a line from the report he had been reading throughout the conversation and then put the paper away in the file labeled CLASSIFIED before he placed it on the stack of other reports he had previously read. He glanced up at Gerald and noticed he had a troubled expression on his face. He chose to change the topic away from his case. He seemed odd looking all conflicted and tense.

"So you want to go to the canteen to get a second helping of breakfast?" he asked. "Then we could go to the place I need to check out before I move in?"

The change of the subject seem to help Gerald brighten up his mood. His eyes were beaming and the smile that grew was so wide it reached from ear to ear. He hopped up from the chair while stretching his arms over his head.

"Skip the breakfast – the canteen here is a lost cause for good food," he laughed. "Let's just head over to this place you're so mysterious about."

"Alright," Harry laughed. He used his wand to make the many papers splayed around his office to go back to their original place before he grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and slipped his arms through. "I'll have to warn you though," he added. "No one has been in that place for ages so don't be surprised to see it abandoned."

Gerald waved him off. "Pish posh. I just want to see this already."

Harry had to laugh at the shining excitement Gerald was reflecting off. At least he had his mind off of his case. He then held up his arm to Gerald.

"Better hold on then."

Gerald complied without hesitation. The grin never left his face. Harry closed his eyes as he started to picture his destination. It has been a long time since he went to Grimmauld Place but he still remembered that the last time he had been there he had been the one to recast the Fidelius Charm so it could stay hidden to anyone, even those who knew about it, so that the memory of Sirius Black, and the ones he had chosen as the Secret Keepers are Ron and Hermione. Only they understood most how much it means to him to keep this piece of his late godfather protected and unharmed in any way possible.

With a quick picture in his mind, they disapparated.

* * *

His feet almost twisted when they landed on the hard gravel of the alleyway of an apartment complex he remembered to be spotted across the street of his desired location. The grasp on his arm loosened as Gerald stretched out his limbs, groaning in displeasure. Ahead of them, a wave of Muggles is seen walking past the alleyway, unaware of them in the foggy space. The day still seemed slightly hazy since it was still the early morning and the sun was hardly peaking over the architecture of Islington, London.

"I never liked that type of traveling," muttered Gerald.

Harry did not listen to him complain; he merely took a couple of steps closer to the edge of the alleyway, standing nearby the opening air of the area, his eyes never leaving the ancient building of Grimmauld Place. He can clearly see the number plates of eleven and thirteen lodged together at the entrance of the hidden home of the most famous wizard family in history, the Black family. Through his eyes, he can see the form of Number 12 Grimmauld Place perfectly resting as it has been for years as a twinge of despair twist and turn in the pit of his stomach.

Memories of his younger years replayed before him; he can see himself, fifteen and vulnerable, staring up at the building in disbelief yet awe as Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Kingsley Shackebolt all trudged up the steps confidently and comfortably like they had been living there since their birth. The fronts of the houses were grimy and as unwelcoming as before, the smashed glasses of the broken windows now seem rather rusted and more cracked were now shining off the glittering lights of the streetlamps that have yet to turn off, and there were several garbage bags seen on the front steps. It took him a moment to realize those are the same ones he had seen years ago and they're probably ripe now.

He remembered the second time he had entered that house, only one time during the war. He was too stiff and uncertain that he was able to remain sane in a home that, although carried a horrid history of mistreatment to house-elves and a deep hatred towards Muggle-borns and Bloodtraitors, held moments of sincerity and genuine care between lost bonds. Every corner he saw Sirius; his moments with his godfather haunted him through the walls, his voice ricocheted into his ear through the silence of the night, and the image of him being dragged through the Veil, his soul forever trapped in the endless void of the uncharted and unknown made him cry in his sleep. He'd always cast the Silencing Charm whenever he took a nap in a room separate from Hermione and Ron to not alarm them of his tears – it was a risk in case someone snuck in during their stay but he needed to be alone at times.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Gerald, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, the touch making him blink out of his trance and the sight of his younger self disappeared like a wisp of air and the memories of his godfather went with it. He looked at Gerald, who shone concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said softly, not trusting his voice at the moment. He looked back at the building. "Just feeling a little nostalgic."

"What sort of place is this? It looks like…er…well not good."

"That's because it's not. Just stay close and don't talk to anyone. This place is mostly resided with Muggles."

Gerald nodded. Slowly, Harry walked ahead out of the alleyway with Gerald following closely. He glanced around the bustling area, making sure that neither of the Muggles were paying attention before he brought out his wand.

"What are you –"

Harry, however, tapped his wand quickly on five different bricks between the buildings eleven and thirteen then pushed Gerald back as he waited. A second later, the same battered door he remembered emerged from nothing and the familiar murky walls and dingy windows appeared before them. A tightness in Harry's chest made it difficult for him to breathe a little as the building became whole and a thousand past emotions flooded into him altogether. The Muggles of the area did not stop their constant pacing through the streets as expected.

"Wow," Gerald awed.

"Hurry before someone suspects something," Harry prodded on. He quickly climbed up the grimy stone steps with Gerald in tow and he used his wand to tap on the faded-black door. Metallic clicks and clanks were heard on the other side before a familiar tick came. Harry then twisted the silver, twisted serpent doorknob and ushered Gerald quickly into the building before he shut the door behind them, surrounding them in inscrutable darkness.

"I would be really turned on right now if it weren't for the creepiness of the dark," Gerald said.

Harry's legs guide him through the dark effortlessly as if they were his light and his hands reached out through the blackness until his fingers touched a tiny knob. He turned it; a hissing noise was heard and then a faint light glowed up the gloomy hallway as gas lamps stuttered on. They were immediately greeted by peeling, molted walls and portraits covered by sheets (Harry was relieved by this because he did not want to have to go through Sirius' mother and her screeching).

The rickety floorboards groaned under Harry's weight as he walked down on the threadbare carpet, looking around from the cobweb-covered, serpent-shaped chandelier to the candelabra on the table. There was also the beheaded forms of past house-elves mounted on the same plagues lined up in on the wall. Everything was the same as he remembered it to be. Even the ugly umbrella stand remained untouched.

"This is your home?" asked Gerald, the same bewilderment Harry had once felt heard through his words. "This looks like a torture room you'd find in some old dungeon in Transylvania."

"No really," Harry murmured. He could never call this place as 'home'. He used to once because it lived as a place of salvation away from the Dursleys and because he was able to experience the genuine love of a father figure through Sirius but all of that changed after his fifth year.

"Why would you want to live here?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go. This place is the only one I could think of so…"

"Why don't you stay over at Hermy's? I'm sure she and Ron wouldn't mind having you. It will be like old times for you lot."

"As tempting as it may be, it's not a good idea. I only slept over last night because of the current situation. If I stayed their permanently then it would cause more chaos. Ginny isn't fond of Hermione anymore so if I stayed at her place – I don't even want to think about it. Ron isn't exactly okay with me – he's leaning more towards his sister's side than he's showing but he already gave me a piece of his mind, literally, not too long ago so he's already done what he needs to do as Ginny's older brother."

"Uff, talk about drama," Gerald whistled. "I thought that was secondary school stuff."

Harry laughed. He was glad he chose Gerald to be the one to escort him to Grimmauld Place; he was a nice distraction away from all the desolation and bleak atmosphere of the abandoned home.

Harry's fingers trailed over the jagged lines of the wooden railing as he and Gerald ascended the stairs in an easy pace, his heart somehow climbed up his throat and was thumping painfully against his windpipe, giving him a hard time to not hyperventilate. When they reached the second landing, he could have sworn he heard hurried footsteps running across the main floor and he glanced down alarmingly as he expected to see a recognizable form come to view. But as he waited a minute, he realized no one was in the house besides him and Gerald or the portraits would have blown into an endless string of complaints and swearing.

"You good, Harry?" asked Gerald, who was leaning over the trailing to spot something where Harry was gazing at.

 _Just breathe. It's all in your head. Don't let it get to you._ Harry blinked, shaking his head, then said, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thought I heard something."

Harry continued across the landing, ignoring the piercing sensation of Gerald's gaze on the back of his neck, and turned the serpent-shape knob of the first door he came across with and opened. However, as soon as he caught sight of a high ceiling, he hated himself for not noticing where his sense of direction was taking him; it was his old room he shared with Ron. The twin beds were old, looking somewhat moldy, with the sheets all rumpled, the drapes were torn, probably caused by moths, and the carpet was ragged and sticking out of the floor. The tall dark wardrobe was a statue of dust and the portrait of Sirius' great-great grandfather, Phineas Nigellus, was sleeping soundly. He had brought that back in the house as an attempt to hide his past away in this house.

For a moment, Harry's arms inched to be held open at the sudden instinct of Hermione flinging herself onto him in an embrace and speaking her worry for him rapidly in one breath, and he could hear Ron laughing at Hermione's overprotective nature in the background but he resisted the urge once he told himself that he was no longer fifteen.

"Nice room," grumbled Gerald uncomfortably.

"It's the one Ron and I used to share," Harry explained as he stepped closer into the room, his shaking hands stuffed in his pockets to avoid worrying his companion. "It was a lot nicer – well, it looked somewhat better than this. Because of Molly's obsession to clean the place look well-maintained through all the mold and griminess."

"Then Molly is a miracle-worker," Gerald snorted.

Harry left the room and took the stairs again to go to the topmost landing of the house and when he got there he immediately saw the two bedrooms where Regulus and Sirius once resided in. He opened the closest one to him and he was caught in a tornado of deep rich red and shining gold representing the house of bravery, along with torn posters of Muggle women clad in thin bikinis and Muggle motorbikes. He felt a constriction in his chest as he stared at Sirius' old bedroom and he thought he felt a gulp of bile threatening to rise up.

 _This is too much_. He couldn't handle this as well as he thought he could. There were too many memories that stabbed his heart with pain, too many unforgotten moments that burned his mind, and too much far too much reminders of friendly faces he would forever remember as bloody and broken by an old unkind friend, Death.

Harry quickly turned away from the room, leaving the door wide open, and ran down the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet, not bothering to stop at the landing where Gerald stayed to explore the room. He ran and ran, not once stopping when he heard Gerald calling after him, and he turned to a direction away from the front entrance, sprinting like his life depended on it. He felt like it did. The sounds of his hard footsteps have caused the portrait of Walburga Black to awaken and the curtain covering her flung apart as she started to screech, the sound cutting up Harry's ears like razors that he had to clamp up his ears.

Gerald was close to catching up with Harry but he failed to grasp onto him as Harry raced into the next room on the other side of the vacant hallway and Harry halted once he realized he was standing in the dining room. It looked even more cavernous with no people in it; the heavy pots and pans looked rusted and the chairs tucked into the long table at the center of it all looked worn out. The dresser holding the Black family crest and china was still crawling with spiders like he last remembered but he was more engrossed at the thousand memories that played before him as Sirius' voice echoed across the walls like he was actually there.

" _We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."_

" _You think the dead we loved ever truly left us?"_

" _You are – truly your father's son, Harry…"_

" _The ones who love us never really leave us, you can always find them in here."_

" _We are part of you. Invisible to anyone else."_

"Sirius…" whispered Harry. By now his knees have lost all strength and there were black spots swirling across his vision. He was sent tumbling into a kneeling position, his knees thudding harshly against the hard floors. He was too dazed, too tired, too consumed in his mind of torture as the words of his godfather, his last family continued to invade his ears.

"HARRY!"

Gerald's cry was the last thing he heard, aside from Walburga Black's screaming, before he blacked out.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	27. Dear Readers

**! AUTHOR'S NOTE !**

Dear supportive and delightful readers,

Firstly I would like to apologize for the lack of update and unannounced hiatus. I haven't been able to touch my story because, unfortunately, my laptop is broken and all my information, all my chapters, are gone forever. And also I've been busy working long shifts at my job (I just finished working 32 hours yesterday and start again tomorrow) and I've been paying bills and recently started college so I have twice the responsibility now.

I know some of you are checking in to see if you missed a new chapter but I dread to tell you that I might not be heard of for quite some time until, at least, I get my laptop fixed and try to attempt to regain my lost information. I can guarantee you that I have not forgotten of this story at all. I am actually writing it in notebooks during my little breaks and come up with ways to describe a scene (I am excited and anxious to show you all Chapter 26) to make it the best for you all who have been with me since the beginning or are new.

Thank you all for your reviews; your words are so kind and very encouraging to me. I love you all for it. When I return, I will be loaded with chapter after chapter ready and fresh for you because you deserve it. I am forever grateful for you all.

So until next time my wonderful Potterheads

With love,

 **FieldOfGoldenRushes xx**


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